


we did it for the glory

by dxntdxdrxgs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Child Abuse, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Multi, Sexual Assault, bisexual!peter parker, gay!ned leeds, its not too sad, this is my first time writing an of fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-06 08:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11596386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dxntdxdrxgs/pseuds/dxntdxdrxgs
Summary: Peter is questioning his sexuality, no big deal, until this kid shows up. This kid who seemingly worms his way into Peter's life from the first day they meet. This kid who makes Peter blush and think, "wow, this is it. I really do like boys."Atlas has a less than favorable home life. He doesn't like to think about it, at the risk of sounding like a cliché and horribly flawed fanfiction character. But then he meets Peter, and what starts out as innocent advice slowly begins to morph into something more.AKA everyone is queer and sad.





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> this is so weird for me bc i never make character/oc fics but i love atlas too much to let him go to waste
> 
> also i like to do 1000-2000 word chapters so i'm gonna aim for frequent updates! this chapter is more to get the plot rolling than anything else and i'm rly sorry if it sucks

The scream ricocheted through the shower as Peter pressed his hands to the walls desperately. Close, the walls were so close... He sucked in a breath and clamped his eyes closed, but dammit, he couldn't breathe! Everything around him clouded up in a fog of steam as he stumbled out onto his cold tile floor and lay there, choking and gasping for a minute. May rushed in a moment later, turning the water off without question as she grabbed a towel and hoisted Peter up. She kept her distance, a delicate hand perched on his shoulder. 

"You're okay, honey, you're okay. Just breathe slow, in and out." 

"I can't," he whined, hands going to grasp at his hair and tug in fistfuls, "I-I, there's—" 

He cried harder, latching onto May like a scared child and all she could do was take him gingerly into her arms and lead him into his cool bed. The familiar scents and slickness of his sheets calmed him down immediately and she lifted his window, coming back to perch herself on his bedside. 

An hour passed and she never once moved, just hummed to him and kept reaffirming that he was okay, he could breathe, as she ran a gentle hand up and down his calf. 

At that moment she had never hated Tony stark more. 

\--

"You're gonna be late genius!" 

Atlas stumbled, grabbing for a piece of toast as his other three siblings got theirs. He sighed sadly as he realized that, shocker, there was no toast left. His younger brother offered a sympathetic look, while the other two quite literally laughed in his face. 

"Genius," Atlas repeated in a mocking tone as he went to pick up his backpack from its resting place by the door. His eldest brother had a note taped to the back, the words 'science pansy' scrawled in his terrible writing made Atlas grumble. At least he was creative, albeit not the brightest...

"Atlas," Tanner, the youngest of the four of them squeaked, "can we walk together?" 

Tanner was the smartest kid he knew, skipping middle school and going straight into freshman year. Atlas smiled to himself as he thought about the fact that he and Tanner were going to school together, even though they were years apart. "Sure thing, kiddo." 

As they made their way down the sidewalk, Tanner pointedly gazed toward the pier. 

"When do you think they'll have it fixed?" he inquired, and Atlas gave a dumbfounded shrug. Some wicked battle had gone down there, once again ending with the amazing Spider-man saving the day! Atlas let his mind wander briefly. His dad sucked and so did his older brothers... He wished the red-suit-clad hero would swoop in and save him. God, the dude was probably gorgeous! He had to be, right? His body looked really nice under the suit and Atlas found his consciousness drifting to places it definitely shouldn't at 7 AM on the sidewalk. 

He rolled his eyes and grabbed Tanner's shoulder, rushing the rest of the way to school, never addressing his little brother's curiosity because he just simply didn't know the answer. It was a sad truth that sorta made Atlas feel awkward and inadequate in ways that were more shameful than... Well, anything. He was the big brother, Tanner's idol! He should know the answer to every question and inquiry in seconds because not only did he have that unique big bro magic, but he was also an academic prodigy so— well, there was that pressure always weighing him down, especially now as he guided Tanner into their knew school. 

"Holá!" a boy greets, bouncing in front of Atlas. He notices that Tanner has already skipped off to find his schedule and classes. Mad respect. 

"Hi," he chuckled awkwardly, gripping the straps of his backpack as another boy entered his line of sight. The guy lagged behind the one he was speaking to a bit, frowning as he walked closer. 

"Flash, don't tell me you're already harassing new kids," he whispered unsteadily. The boy, Flash, gaped. 

"No! I was just welcoming— wait, what's your name?"

"Atlas," he nodded, "Rossi. Atlas Rossi." 

The boy who'd scolded Flash seemed transfixed for a moment, a pink blush raising to his honey-colored skin. And wow, Atlas found that way too pretty. "My name is Peter, um, Peter Parker!" 

"He knows Spider-man," Flash mocked briefly and Atlas rolled his eyes. Douche, huh? 

"That sounds cool," he offered to Peter, who seemed to visibly relax. "And uh, after I get my schedule could I maybe hang with you? You seem pretty chill." And fucking hot. Atlas groaned inwardly, with a rabid exclamation of I'm so gay! before he followed Peter into the office. 

Getting his schedule was simple enough, and following Peter was also simple enough, especially considering they all had the same classes, with the exception of two— fifth and seventh period. That was okay, he supposed, despite the fact that Peter had already taken to the boy, rambling along whenever a silence plagued them for too long. It was nice. 

"Bro!" Ned screeched and grabbed Atlas' backpack. Ned was a lot to take in at first, but he liked him a lot nevertheless. They seemed more genuine than that Flash kid. "You're gay?" 

He tugged at the rainbow patch sewn onto the new maroon Jansport and practically beamed. Atlas felt his own smile worming its way onto his face. "Yeah, I am..." 

"Peter is—" the other boy smacked Ned's arm a little too hastily, the strength of it knocking the other boy from their bench at the lunch table. Atlas laughed a bit and helped a flustered Peter tug his friend back up. "...Straight." 

"Questioning," Peter said confidently, crumbling under Atlas' inquisitive gaze directly after. "Or, maybe not, I—"

Atlas grabbed a pen and Peter's hand, scribbling down his number in his weird half capital-half lowercase style of writing. "It helps to have a gay big brother to talk you through these things. Whether you decide you're gay, straight, bi, or anything in between, I can answer your questions, no judgment." 

Peter stared in awe and nodded happily, Ned huffing directly after. "You get all the guys Peter, and you're not even sure if you like guys!" 

Atlas felt his cheeks warm at the implication, "I've known you both for less than 6 hours, I think it's safe to assume no one is getting anyone here." 

"I get you," Peter grinned, "like, emotionally." 

"Okay, hippie," Ned quipped, making Atlas snicker along. 

\---

"Hey, spit-fire," Atlas greeted, ruffling Tanner's hair affectionately, making the blond pre-teen let out a disgruntled noise. It made Atlas wonder briefly if they had different moms because, really, they looked like polar opposites. Tanner was sweet, his face and eyes round. His hair was a shimmery light gold and his eyes were deep pools of brown that always shined in the light. Tanner still retained his baby-fat but he didn't care, he was confident about his body and it made Atlas smile. 

Yet the elder was so different. His face was all sharp angles and thin, framed by shoulder length black hair that was rarely washed and simply pulled back into a beanie or shoved out of his eyes. His irises were a shallow, pale grayish green that always made him feel dull. He was tall and lanky, taller than both his older brothers (and obviously Tanner.) He wore a lot of red and gray, and also a ton of sweaters. Tanner joked that his big bro didn't own anything else and honestly, he wasn't far off. 

"Let's go catch a bite to eat, yeah?" Atlas offered and Tanner wholeheartedly agreed. 

They took off on a trek down the street, happily skipping toward a deli. That was, until Atlas' phone began to buzz in his pocket. He frowned as his oldest brother's name flashed across the screen. 

brad:  
get ur ass home, dad's pissed 

me:  
why?

brad:  
idk, drunk. rather he beat your ass than mine

brad:  
just. hurry the fuck up

"Hey, um, Tanner?" Atlas swallowed and turned to the boy. "You mind chillin' down at the park while I deal with dad?" 

Tanner's eyes shown sadly, "is he drunk again?" 

Atlas' fists clenched and he knelt down to Tanner's level. "No, buddy. We need to work on some adult stuff, okay? Dad loves you so much, and so do Brad, Mark, and I." 

It was a lie that Atlas wished he believed, but the smile that crossed the younger boy's face was enough to push away his rising doubt. He takes out his wallet and gives Tanner a ten dollar bill (he would give the boy so much more if he could,) instructing the kid to buy himself a snack. He promises to have dinner made by the time he gets home. 

The walk back to the apartment makes his nerves buzz with jitters. He didn't want to become a national statistic for child trauma and abuse. He didn't want to become the cliche in some fan fiction or teen romance novel. He wanted to be rescued, wanted to get out. He keeps thinking of Spider-man. He wonders what it must feel like to soar above the city and feel weightless; to be stronger than everyone and feel so secure. He bets Spider-man isn't unsure of anything. 

He gingerly unlocks his apartment door, trying to sneak in, but then. He hears the laughter and he pauses, seeing Mark and Brad standing behind their father, the first of the three having a more sympathetic look to his face. "That patch on your backpack is horrible," his father slurred. 

We live in NYC, he thought, the liberal capital of the world; cut me some slack! 

"I thought it was nice," Atlas replied, hands going up to self-consciously grip the broad black straps of his new bag. "Despite the fact that it's... Something you dislike, the pattern is nice." 

"You're such a fag!" he growled out, and that was the brothers' cue to scramble away, leaving Atlas to stand inches from a drunken nightmare. "Can't you at least try to act masculine? Act fucking normal?" 

"I am masculine," Atlas calmly replied, nudging his father away when the man came to close. This resulted in one of his wrists being grabbed roughly. He whined a bit in the back of his throat, jerking his hand away. "You need to sleep this shit off." 

"Don't curse at your father," the man hissed, "do you hear me?" 

Atlas felt his temper rise. He still expected respect when he was doing this? Acting like this? 

"Kind of hard to, over all the goddamn slurring!" He yelled, regretting it the second a fist slammed into the plaster beside his head so hard that it made his ears ring. He flinched away and watched his father's temper escalate. 

"What did I just say? Huh? Why can't you mind like your brothers? Why can't you be like Brad?" 

And there it was, the sentence that always hurt more than anything. Atlas asked himself that too. Why couldn't he be like Brad? The straight, attractive, football prodigy. Atlas bit back his tears and gently moved his father's bleeding hand from the wall. He dropped his bag and took off his jacket, wrapping the bleeding appendage in it while he went to retrieve the first aid kid. The man still mumbled angrily in his drunken stupor, letting Atlas bandage and disinfect the wound before he administered the man a sleeping pill. In a matter of moments, he was out cold, snoring loudly. 

"Y'know, you're not supposed to mix sleeping pills and alcohol," Mark commented, leaning in his doorway. Atlas gave a noise of dismissal, angling his head so that the man couldn't aspirate on his own bile if he vomited. "Everything would be so much easier if..." 

"If I was straight?" Atlas muttered bitterly. He rose to his feet and dusted himself off. "I know you mean well Mark, and don't take it personally when I say fuck off." 

He spun on his heel and went out the door, sighing as he pulled out his phone. 

17 Missed Calls From: tan-man!!

\----

Peter was perched on the rooftop, eating a sandwich. What better was there to do? As dusk settled over the city everything was quiet, or as quiet as a bustling business hub could be. Crime wise, things tended to peak between 3 and 5 PM and then again between 1 and 4 AM. He had it all so clearly memorized that he found the sentiment a little boring. Nevertheless, he swallowed down the rest of his food and tugged his mask back down, opting to swing through the city for a while just to be sure. 

He found himself stilling near the park as he watched a few boys, around 12 maybe, throw one around. Peter felt himself pale. He remembers that, getting pushed around and feeling so hopeless, like no one would come to the rescue. He leapt down and noticed they were using rather adult slurs to be so young. 

"Hi kids, care to explain?" He quipped, watching as the bullies released their hold on the quaking kid's shirt. Shit, they totally broke his nose... "I don't think I need to give you a run-down on why bullying is bad." 

The kids' heads bowed as a few mumbled in shame. Peter felt bad for reveling in the fact that he was basically a super-dad right now. He giddily acknowledged that he'd have to tell Mr. Stark about that one. 

"Sorry..." one mumbled, and Peter shook his head. 

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. You seriously hurt him." 

"Sorry," the kids mumbled, running off after the kid who was left on the ground sniffled out an, "it's okay." 

Peter knelt down and wiped at the boy's tears, laughing pretty hard when the only thing he managed to say was, "my older brother has a crush on you." 

"What's your name?" Peter prodded, "I need to call your parents." 

"Parent," the boy corrected sadly, "and it's Tanner Rossi." 

Peter stilled momentarily. Was this—

"Tanner!" 

Atlas barreled through the clearing a moment later, landing unceremoniously on his knees to check his brother over. He ignored Peter for the time being, letting his little brother explain what had happened, but when he mentioned Spider-man, Atlas almost broke his neck by how fast he turned around. Peter felt kinda smug as he watched the new kid fumble briefly. He'd seemed so confident in his element at school that day, but now the ball was in Peter's court. 

"Thank you, so much," he said, looking down, "really, I should've been here. Time just got away from me and— god, I'm such a horrible big brother." 

Peter coughed and attempted to lower his voice, shaking his head, "not true. Happy to help, sir, see ya!" 

"Well, he doesn't sound hot," Tanner scoffed as they watched him retreat, making his older brother snort. 

"Come on, we can watch the Mothman Prophecies and do homework together, how's that sound?" 

"Awesome!" 

Tanner was sure he had the coolest big brother in the world, and Atlas felt the opposite, and Peter was sorta happy that he had a new friend. A friend that had offered help without hesitation, though he barely knew him. 

What a weird day.


	2. TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions between Atlas and his family raise as Peter realizes his new friend may be unknowingly caught in a sinister web of illegal weapons selling. 
> 
> Well, not exactly. He's a little slow on the uptake. 
> 
> Meanwhile Aunt May kinda thinks her nephew is gay and Tony Stark looks through Bucky Barnes' ancestry because he's salty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys this sucks sorta and kudos are appreciated as well as comments bc my self esteem is at a negative 12

It was a vice grip on Peter's throat when he choked out a whine. Everything in his room was too hot, too loud. 

He found himself on the ground, gasping and winding around as he screamed and tried to think of something, anything to ease his mind. 

Should he call Ned? 

No, Ned wasn't too understanding when it came to this. He loved him, but his knee jerk avoidance wasn't what Peter needed. 

May was working late and he'd rather die than bother her. 

Happy? Mr. Stark? Absolutely not.

He looked down at his hand and the smudged writing there, the numbers standing as a clear, navy blue contrast to his honey-colored skin. He sucked in a wary breath and grabbed his phone, rehearsing what to say in his mind. 

\--

Atlas was sitting awake in his bed, reading through an issue of Discover magazine, noting how the theories disproving the links between autism and vaccination caught his interest. He pulled his hair back into a low bun and yawned, tossing the paperback away as he chewed on his lip. One day at his new school and he had two pals. Acquaintances. Friends. It was totally cool and Atlas was floored. 

His phone rung and he rushed to silence it, not wanting to risk waking his brothers or father, frowning at the unknown number. "Hello?" 

A shaky breath could be heard on the other side before none other than Peter Parker spoke, "hey, I know this is really, really weird because we've known each other all but one day but. I sorta panicked and I don't really have anyone to talk to..." 

"What's your address?" Atlas asked, suddenly on high alert. 

"W-What? No, like I said we barely know each other, that would be weird and—" 

"Peter, let's get one thing straight," Atlas muttered, tugging a jean jacket on over his hoodie. He balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder as he struggled with his skinny jeans, "I spoil the shit out of my friends. Not that I have any... But you and Ned! I wanna be your friend and dammit, what's your address?" 

Flash forward to Atlas standing at the local corner store, furrowing his brow as he debated between two different types of chocolate ice cream. He looked to an older lady beside him, her white hair contrasting her dark skin. "Which do you recommend?" 

"Neither, asshole," she grunted, making Atlas stumble back a bit as she moved past him. Oh shit, she was blind... Well, he guessed he deserved to be called that, then. 

He just sighed and grabbed two pints, snagging some more junk food and paying, throwing it all haphazardly in his backpack as he took another look at Peter's address. He wondered if maybe everything he was doing was too... Extra? He'd never really had friends, not close ones, but he wanted to have some. Especially Peter because, hey, the guy was attractive and also pretty sweet from what Atlas could tell. 

He knocked after he got to the apartment and ascended to the 7th floor, standing and swaying back and forth nervously. Peter opened the door rather quickly, breathing shallow and his eyes darting back and forth like he couldn't focus. Atlas would be lying if he said he didn't feel out of his element here. Was this a weird thing to do when you'd only known someone a day? Did Peter even really want him here?

"Hey," Atlas murmured quietly, nudging Peter inside and closing the door behind him, "look at me, no, Peter, at me." 

This drew the boy's attention away from the blaring lightly momentarily and judging by how much he relaxed, he was going through sensory overload. Atlas nudged Peter's arms away from his sides, making the other frown. 

"What are you—" 

"It helps, trust me," he said, giving Peter a stern look. Both boys found trust in each other and briefly ignored that they'd known each other all of 13 hours at most. What a fucking fanfic trope, huh? Atlas snickered silently at the thought. "Does your clothes— do they feel off?" 

Peter seemed shocked that Atlas understood what was happening and nodded. "T-The denim feels— like too much, but, my— uh, my shirt is soft and feels good." 

Everyone craved different touches in times like these, Atlas knew, and he promptly told Peter to change into a pair of sweatpants and bring a pair of sunglasses with him. He did as he was told and Atlas shoved the glasses on him and poked him in the eye twice (no wonder he never kept friends.) After that, he grabbed a paper towel and shoved a small piece in each of Peter's ears and stepped back. 

"Unconventional," he muttered, "but how do you feel?" 

Peter gaped at him, "b-better...? How did you know what to do?" 

Atlas shrugged and slung his bag down. He rifled around and fished out the pints of ice cream, motioning Peter to the kitchen. "I have synesthesia. When too many people are talking and stuff and I think about it, really hear them, it's like a whirlwind of color and feeling all over my body and I just want dark and quiet— I just wanna launch myself into space and sleep." 

Peter grinned at his new friend, "I've heard of that... What color is my name?" 

"Red," Atlas answered without hesitation, "copper undertones. Tastes sweet." 

The other boy was practically beaming, distracted enough to shed the sunglasses and makeshift earplugs, grabbing spoons for the two of them as they sat and ate in comfortable silence. Peter was the one to break it. 

"You, ah, you said you don't have any friends?" 

"Nope," Atlas shrugged again, shoving a mouthful of the minty shit in his mouth. "People don't like me." 

"Why?" 

Atlas thought about all the breakdowns and his self-harm phase, his depression and anger issues, the things that always made him a burden. "Dunno." 

"Their loss," Peter beamed, "my gain." 

Atlas choked on his ice cream, face flushing as he looked up at Peter. "Fucking cliché." And sweet. 

"True," he nodded, "so... Anything interesting happen today?" 

Peter wondered if Atlas really did have a crush on Spider-man. It seemed as though everyone did, Liz included, although no one noticed Peter himself. And Liz... She was so pretty, so sweet, everything Peter had ever wanted. But his mind was having the hardest internal battles right now, wondering why his body reacted to pictures of naked boys too, not just girls, and why he imagined rough hands on him sometimes, not just feminine ones. He sighed to himself, watching Atlas' face light up. 

"I met Spider-man! And I totally owe him a thank you," Atlas smiled, but it dropped off as he thought more, "god, I... I let my little brother get beat up. I fucking suck." 

"You don't," Peter said a little too quickly, making the other boy raise his eyebrow, "I'm sure you didn't do it on purpose." 

"I didn't," he nodded, "I sent him to the park because—" 

Peter noticed something dark cloud over Atlas' eyes but it disappeared just as soon as it came. 

"Never mind. Hey, do you have a WiiU? Because," he drew the word out and smiled so wide his cheeks could split as he produced a copy of Super Mario 3D World from his backpack. Peter gave a full on belly laugh. 

"I have an Xbox," Peter replied, chuckling again at the face his new friend pulled. 

"Lame ass," he rolled his eyes, dropping the game back in, "Mario can cure depression, you hear me? Invest in Nintendo." 

The night progressed with banter like that, the two slowly falling into a comfortable lull in the discussion. Atlas watched as Peter yawned, slumping into him. Atlas nudged the boy away, but he fell back into him again. Physical contact made Atlas jumpy if he wasn't the one to initiate it and he tried not to panic as he realized how late it was. 

"I need to go," he said quickly, but was met with soft snores in response. Well damn, that could melt anyone's heart. He jumped a tad as the door unlocked and a woman entered, rolling her eyes fondly at the mess they'd left in the kitchen. 

"Hey, is Ned—?" She paused and smiled widely at the sight before her. Atlas was blushing and staring down at his toes. He was terrified of adults. "What's your name, sweetheart?" 

Atlas immediately felt a warm burst in his chest at the affection, as if the woman sensed his reluctance. "Atlas Rossi. Peter wasn't feeling too good, so I came over to cheer him up, I guess." 

"Well, I'm May, his aunt and guardian. You're welcome to call me Aunt May, too, if you'd like!" 

Atlas got choked up and suddenly Peter stirred. His eyes lit up when he opened them and they landed on May. The sentiment was so sweet he wanted to puke, but in the best way possible. If that was possible? 

"You wanna stay the night?" 

The fuzzy feeling of 'home' settled in Atlas' chest, but as he thought about his father and how angry he'd be, and how he couldn't make sure Tanner got ready... He shook his head gently and stood, stretching and flinching as his bones creaked and popped. "No, I'm sorry. Maybe another time...? That is, if you want." 

"Yeah!" Peter stood too, walking with Atlas over to the door. He gripped the straps of his backpack once he got it on and they dazedly smiled at each other for a moment before Aunt May cleared her throat in the background. "See you in first period?" 

"Always," Atlas nodded, slinking back out the door. He felt colder instantly when he stepped out, his shoulders sagging as he realized what he would be walking back into. Peter had shared a piece of companionship he'd never even had, all in one day. 

Atlas craved more. 

\---

It was 4 AM when Atlas finally got home. He snuck back in as silently as possible, but Brad was awake, perched in the armchair like a disappointed father. Funny, because their father was a disappointment, and really Brad was too. A college dropout who was living off the fame of his high school career and 3k Facebook friends. 

"Where have you been?" 

Atlas scoffed, he wasn't afraid of Brad. "Wouldn't you like to know." 

"I would," Brad said, standing and folding his arms over his chest, "you can't just wander around like a vagabond in the middle of the night. We can't afford a fucking funeral right now." 

Atlas stilled briefly, but shrugged the comment off, going to walk past Brad into his room. But he grabbed his arm and every defense in his brain went haywire as he cried out and shoved his brother back. He was always sore from his dad being rough, he didn't need Brad doing this now too. 

The elder grabbed both of his arms now, shaking Atlas into disorientation as he glowered at him, "you're so selfish, you're turning Tanner into you! He needs to cut his fucking hair and start acting like a man; like us." 

Atlas always figured Brad and Mark were hopeless, and even himself to an extent. All they had known was what they saw from their father. The abusive drunk was all the three boys had for reference point on parenting, but Atlas was going to break the cycle with Tanner. The boy was going to be happy and care free and he wasn't going to pick up a drink and panic, he wasn't going to lose his temper (even for good reasons) and panic because, oh god, was he becoming his father? 

"You can say all you want about me," Atlas grit out, "but not Tanner. Don't you ever say shit about him!" 

Brad's hand moved away then, and he punched Atlas straight in the face. The younger of the two stumbled back in shock. It got bad, but never this bad, never... He looked up with wide, fearful eyes. "He gets it too if he doesn't cut that goddamn hair, you hear me? I will beat the fag out of him." 

Atlas nodded weakly, not resisting when Brad grabbed him again and slung him into his room. He wondered what had set all of this off. Was it the stress of moving? Of Tanner and Atlas getting accepted into Midway? He shook his head and moved to his bathroom, staring into the mirror. His eye was already sore and bruising and he cursed briefly. Couldn't really hide that. 

He moved back toward his bed and didn't bother taking his clothes off as he collapsed into the mattress. He sighed and groaned a little as his sore muscles caught up with him. He grunted and rolled around to fish his phone out of his pocket, seeing the number from earlier pop up with a text. 

peter:  
hope u got home ok!!!!

me:  
i did, dw. gnight

He rolled over to face his window as he stared out at the bustling street below. Even at this time it wasn't particularly quiet; not that Atlas mattered, the city sounds always helped him sleep. He cleared his throat and coughed briefly, tapping on Safari. He went to google and paused. Was he sure he wanted to know this? 

He swallowed at the name of the website, "child-abuse-effects.com." That wasn't subtle in the least, was it? He scrolled down a bit and felt his throat tighten. 

"One of the most infamous cases of a parent singling out a child for abuse is that of Dave Pelzer, author of several books, including A Child Called "It." Dave suffered years of abuse at the hands of his mother, and she repeatedly tried to kill him. He was 12 years old before he was rescued by teachers who finally reported the abuse to Social Services. At the time (1973), Dave's case was considered the worse case of child abuse in the history of California. None of his brothers were abused. And even if one wanted to argue that the other boys in the family had been abused, the physical evidence unmistakably showed that Dave was singled out." 

He felt like crying when he saw that, and a few tears did fall, but he clicked his phone off before he got the chance to feel sorry for himself anymore. Just one more year of this. 

But Tanner. 

Atlas would battle for custody if his dad wouldn't hand him over willingly. Atlas turned his phone back on and snapped a picture of his eye. Evidence. He would stay for Tanner now, at the risk of them being separated by child services. He would take everything for the kid. 

Did he deserve it? 

\----

Peter was bouncy the next morning, his knee jiggling uncontrollably at breakfast as he wolfed down his food. Aunt May stared at him knowingly, but she didn't say much. That is, until his phone lit up with the names "atlas genius & needle leedle," and Peter practically fell out of his chair to get to the device. 

"So that boy yesterday was cute," she smiled at the memory, "is he new?" 

"Atlas? Yeah! He's pretty cool. He totally clicked with me and Ned," Peter rushed out, looking down at his phone. 

needle leedle:  
what's up u stank bitches

atlas genius:  
why are u alive this early 

peter:  
hi guys!!!!!

Aunt May hid her smile behind her cup of coffee. "I think they're both really good for you, sweetheart. Atlas came to you when you had a panic attack after knowing you for one day, and Ned always makes you smile." 

atlas genius:   
hey nerd what's up

peter:  
not a nerd, a g e e k 

needle leedle:  
i want ryan reynolds in my asshole right now

atlas genius:  
BROOOOOO

atlas genius:  
[photo attached]

needle leedle:  
IS THAT HIS PENIS

atlas genius:  
HELL YES IT IS

Peter laughed at the two, shutting his phone off as he got up and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Aunt May's cheek. "Love you." 

"You too, be careful!" she yelled, watching as Peter stumbled over himself out the door. 

He grinned and sighed, setting off on his trek to school. He popped his earbuds in, until he met Ned at their usual corner. They walked and talked about random shit, mostly Ned about Ryan Reynolds' penis, but Peter was focused elsewhere. 

"Dude, Liz is right in front of us," he whispered to Ned, watching as his best friend stopped drawing a smiley face on the actor's dick. He beamed and shoved Peter forward. 

But then both boys' jaws dropped. 

Atlas was walking alongside her with his little brother, chattering about happily. They acted like they'd known each other for a long time, which sorta set Peter off because he wanted to know Liz like that! But he wanted to know Atlas like that, too, and... shit, confusing feelings. 

"Atlas!" Ned screeched, running forward as Peter yelped and fumbled after him. The boy spun around and smiled widely, waving his two friends over. 

"Hi," Liz greeted first, making Peter almost shit himself. But then he noticed something. 

"What happened to your face?" 

Atlas jumped slightly when Peter's hand neared him. He brushed his hair in front of his face a bit. "Got mugged." 

"You what?" Ned screamed. Atlas rolled his eyes. 

"Welcome to the city," Atlas shrugged. Peter didn't feel right about that explanation at all, but he dropped the subject as their school came into view. 

"So... how do you guys know each other?" Ned prodded. Liz smiled and pulled Atlas into a side hug. For once, he didn't flinch and accepted it graciously. Peter noticed he was always much more comfortable around feminine figures. 

"Our dads have worked together since we were little. When the work moved and Atlas had to move closer into the city, I recommended Midway for him and my favorite child prodigy," she gently flicked Tanner's nose and the boy's face flushed immediately as he smiled, "they got accepted right away because they're like crazy smart." 

"Not true," Atlas coughed, getting a gentle smack from Liz in the chest directly after. They all entered together and Liz peeked back at Atlas. 

"Why don't we have any of the same classes? You are a senior, right?" 

"Don't have the credits," he supplied, sighing, "I have to repeat my sophomore classes this year and do a shit ton of summer school." 

Liz found it odd but let it slide, wrapping her arm around Tanner and vowing to walk him to class. Atlas smiled at her retreating figure before he realized that Peter was doing more than just stare. 

"Keep it in your pants," Atlas grumbled, thumping his books into Peter's chest as he knelt down to tie his shoes. He heard a startled squeak and turned his head to see Ned losing his shit as Peter looked anywhere but Atlas' ass. "Really? One day and you— Jesus." 

Peter frowned at that, dumbly following after his new friend, "are you okay? You seem off..." 

"You're acting like a bitch," Ned supplied, face paling as Atlas sent him a glare, "sorry!" 

Way to make him feel like shit. 

He clasped a stiff hand on both of their shoulders, "no, I'm sorry. I can't be a jerk after one day of knowing you just because I had a rough night. And Peter?" 

"H-Huh?" the red faced boy blinked. 

"I shouldn't have snapped at you. I can talk to Liz for you, if you want...?" 

"Didn't you say you don't have friends?" Ned asked, albeit a bit more timid than he initially had been. Atlas nodded. 

"She's a family friend, it doesn't really count..."

The other boys dropped the subject and Atlas spent the first three periods kissing some major ass. Ned and Peter were pretty much over the boy's snappy attitude that morning, but Atlas wasn't about to ruin something beautiful. 

They were walking out of the lunch room when they heard a loud creak. The trio spotted a little old lunch lady struggling to fold one of the tables. Atlas' eyes widened as he dropped his bag and ran over, catching the side with one hand and holding it in place. That table weighed so much, how did he—

"Dude..." Ned stared at him just as Atlas gaped at his own action. The lunch lady was out of the way and he let the table drop with a deafening bang as he retrieved his bag and hurried out of the room. 

Peter and Ned let him go ahead, before making curious eye contact. "Did he just stop a falling lunch table with one hand?" 

Peter offered a small, stunned shrug, "adrenaline maybe? The little lady coulda been seriously hurt or dead, I'm sure Atlas knew that." 

Ned's eyes widened, "what if he's like you?"

"Shh!" Peter clamped a hand over his mouth, "he's not!" 

\-----

Tony swung around in his chair, kicking his legs up on the sheet of clear glass that he called a tabletop. He grimaced as his heels clicked against it, disregarding the fact briefly after. He wasn't too worried about property damage right now, not with the damage to his psyche. He snorted. How fucking pretentious was that? What about Steve? What about—

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., pull up ancestry for one James Buchanan Barnes," he called. The voice chimed in, perhaps a little to animatedly. 

"Would you like me to base it off DNA and multiple alias' or that one in particular?" she quipped. He rolled his eyes. 

"What do you think?" 

He flicked his fingers against his phone screen, watching as the family trees and manifestos of three different families appeared. He was related in one way or another in all three, but only in one did he ever have children. Under an Italian alias. 

"Do you think the serum was transferable?" Tony asked, absentmindedly furrowing his brow and clicking his pen. 

"Why do you ask, sir?" 

"I want to know if his grandkids are dangerous, dammit," he grumbled. 

"Why the sudden interest?" 

There was an interest. Because if he could retrieve another super kid, maybe Peter wouldn't feel so alone. Maybe they'd reign themselves in, and Tony could rest a little. He wouldn't have his already damaged conscious plagued with guilt. 

"Any of them present a genetic mutation?" He asked. 

"One. Atlas James Rossi presented a genetic mutation at birth when he was shown to have never been affected by the various drugs and alcohol benders his mother participated in. He also didn't respond to medication, as he metabolized it too fast. Soon after his mother's death in the hospital, his father pulled the child and never took him back to another hospital... The child is even unvaccinated." 

Tony's eyes widened, "F.R.I.D.A.Y., why is a mutation just showing up now?" 

"It laid dormant for a while until," she made a surprised noise. Weird for an AI, "until two people with sickle cell anemia, Mr. Rossi's parents, got together. Perhaps one mutation triggered another?" 

Tony nodded thoughtfully. "Keep an eye on him." 

"Yes, sir."


	3. THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party of their dreams doesn't exactly go as planned. Two words: Penis Parker.
> 
> Atlas learns that he can survive getting the shit beat out of him, as well as learning his new best friend is a super hero and getting dropped into a lake by a giant metal bird man. 
> 
> Peter is all Atlas can think about, for one reason or another, and Peter is preoccupied with Liz. 
> 
> Everything sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've completely invested myself in this fic wow

"You wear the whole kicked puppy face pretty well," Ned observed, making both Atlas and Peter's heads snap up. It was Friday, the big day! Well, big for the Spider-kid who was vibrating with anxiety at the prospect of going to a party. To Liz's party. 

"Yeah, which one of us?" Atlas wiggled his brows as he finished his last coat of black nail polish. 

"Emo-chic," Ned grinned, making Atlas roll his eyes, "and anyway, I meant Peter. We are gonna go in there and have fun, no matter how much it is social suicide." 

"Are you really friends with Spider-man?" Atlas cut in, "because if not, we are going to die. Straight up." 

"I-I am! I just don't know if I should ask him to show up, y'know? He has more important things to be doing..." 

Ned shot Peter a strained look and Atlas just shrugged. 

"Well, if he's your friend I'm sure he won't mind. You have that effect on people," Atlas waved his hand flippantly, "I bought you ice cream the first day we met." 

"That's different," Peter groaned, "I want Liz to like me for me, not just because I talk to—" 

"An attractive-bodied man in spandex? Hah," Atlas grinned, "don't worry, I can think of a few ways to distract him." 

Peter's eyes went wide and he shook his head sho fast and hard that Ned was seriously shocked he hadn't gotten whiplash. It was kinda funny, but it was also kinda making Peter freak the fuck out because one friend knew and one friend didn't and he didn't know Atlas well enough to tell and— 

He was going to die. 

\--

Aunt May drove the trio to the suburban household, explaining embarrassingly that she understood how Peter felt, what with his changing body. Atlas laughed loudly at that, until Aunt May pointed out that he'd already been through puberty since he was 17, and he should help his two younger friends. He groaned and hid his face. 

They walked in together and Ned was rather proud of himself for choosing a "suave" hat to accompany his outfit. Peter and Ned stayed close by Atlas' side, which was nice, and also gave Peter easier access to Liz because she seemed to naturally drift toward their long haired friend. Ned was having the time of his life, mumbling something about food as he left Peter and Atlas to find the dance floor. 

"Look guys! It's Penis Parker and his girlfriend!" 

Atlas spun around to see Flash standing at the turntables, a wicked grin on his face. He was like a little culturally diverse gremlin. Atlas hadn't liked him when he'd first met him and he certainly didn't like him now. Was long hair exclusively for women now? Was penis really that funny of an insult? 

He took a deep breath. In and out, keep the temper at bay. Besides, wasn't Atlas great at taking shit from people? He growled under his breath and stomped off, dragging Peter behind him. 

"I'm so sorry they said that to you, it's totally my fault because of the whole Spider-man thing, and it's because I'm a loser, and," Peter sucked in a breath and Atlas cut him off. 

"You're not a loser, dumbass," he grit out, still reeling and trying to calm himself down, "Flash is just a prick." 

Peter sighed and looked down, nodding. "Guess Liz'll probably never notice me, huh?" 

Atlas looked over at the boy. Peter's face was cast in the alternating blues and purples of the lights, and his eyes caught every color in the room at that moment. For a second, Atlas felt breathless. He was just staring in awe, wondering why Peter felt so inadequate. 

"She will," he nodded, "promise." 

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but his phone buzzed and displayed Ned's contact name. He held up a finger and stalked off to find the other friend while Atlas wondered around. He sighed in relief when he found Liz. 

"Hey!" He greeted, watching as her face lit up. 

"Hey, how's the date going?" she asked excitedly. Atlas frowned in confusion. 

"The what?" 

"You and Peter," she said slowly, "are you not...?" 

"Us? No! No, god, no, uh... Listen, that's who I came to talk to you about because Peter is..." He's what? "Peter likes girls and there's a particular one that he really, really wants to notice him. And me, being the gay wingman I am, promised to talk to her." 

"Well, go do it!" Liz bounced. 

Atlas composed himself, "I am." 

Her eyes widened and she frowned, "oh..." 

He frowned, "that's not a good sign, what?" 

"It's just that," she looked around, eyes landing on a girl that Atlas had learned was called Michelle. "She exists." 

"Do you, um, it's not a gal pals thing is it?" 

"Unfortunately," Liz groaned, face falling to her hands. "I can't even talk to her without feeling like a weirdo." 

"I always feel like a weirdo, so, just go for it?" 

"Easier said than done," she mumbled sadly, "but hey, thank you. I might humor Peter, take him to the dance, let him down easy." 

Atlas' stomach twisted, "that's... That's the opposite of a good idea, you'll get his hopes up." 

"No, it'll be good," she smiled, obviously having good intentions, "well, I have to go be a good host so, see you!" 

"Yeah," Atlas muttered, staring down at his red solo cup. 

Halfway through the party when people started chanting, "Penis Parker!" he bounced, feeling kinda bad for not letting his new friends know. He hadn't even seen Peter since he'd wandered off, although Ned looked as though he was in a constant state of terror, which, relatable. 

The walk back into the city would suck and maybe even put him out past curfew, but he didn't care. He thought back to Brad's threat about Tanner and made a mental note to get together some money to take the youngest to the barber shop after school the next day. 

A loud noise sounded to the side of him and he looked over, expecting some sort of animal. What he saw instead was a big ass explosion that made his eyes widen. Oh, he was so totally gonna find aliens. And probably die. But aliens, dude. 

He took off running toward the explosion, weaving through streets and finding that it actually wasn't as far as it could've been. He came to an underpass, a bridge crumbling under him as he quietly tip toed across. At the same time, he witnessed Spider-man swing in. That should've been his clue to run, run as far as fucking possible. But he noticed something as he leaned further over. 

His dad was doing a fucking arms deal. 

Atlas backed away from the ledge and paced around angrily. How could he do this to them! What if he got killed? They'd have no source of income and Tanner and Atlas would be separated and, oh god, he could fucking kill the man. He wanted to ruin everything for him, and was caught in the midst of wanting to run down there screaming, or run away screaming, when a phone went off. 

It was Spider-man's, which was funny because Peter had the exact same ringtone. Come to think of it, when he spoke, this time his voice wasn't that low and—

Holy fucking shit, Peter Parker was Spider-man! And there was a gun on him.

Atlas ran around and slid down to the underpass, barely dodging a piece of straggling rock. Great, cool, he's here, now what the fuck was he supposed to do about any of this exactly? 

"What the fuck?" his dad angrily exclaimed. And, oh yeah, he could fucking kill his dad. 

"You're a dirty goddamn liar!" Atlas roared, stomping closer, "arms deals? With— what the fuck is that? That's not a gun!" 

His father slammed the end of a buzzing blue fist into his mid-section, which sent him flying back toward a pillar. He was dying, totally, this was it. Should he pray? Oh god. He grunted as he fell to the ground, somehow able to stumble to his feet with minimal pain. That would bruise. 

"You didn't tell me you had a super-freak, Rossi," a man yelled, stepping closer to his father. Atlas glared and watched in amazement as Spider-man leapt into action. 

"We have to move the merchandise!" 

And so they did exactly that, but not before Atlas darted out to grab onto Peter's hand to keep up with him. At the shocked way he tried to jerk his hand back, Atlas winced, "I know it's you, now come on! That's my father!" 

Peter stared in amazement, before shooting a web and hitting the back of the van. Suddenly, both boys were being drug behind the vehicle, though Atlas was a bit more vocal about how how angry he was about their predicament. He hit every single obstacle with Peter and both of them were left dumbfounded as to how he wasn't at least unconscious yet. 

"Now!" Atlas jerked Peter's webbing down in the middle and sent him forward before—

The duo was grabbed by two hunks of metal, Peter being the one to shout expletives this time. Suddenly, getting his teeth knocked him by his dad seemed like the least of Atlas' problems when a giant metal bird man was carrying them hundreds of feet in the air. 

And then, Peter grabbed Atlas, and his parachute came out. It didn't work which was, if they lived, just one more reason for Atlas to yell at his friend. Right now he had an entire hour long list, most of which consisting of "what the fuck is wrong with you," and variations of that question. 

The water felt like needles as they entered it, and Atlas couldn't help but clutch to Peter's thrashing form. They were going to die, this was it, and sadly that wasn't the first time that Atlas had thought that. He felt water entering his mouth and choking him up, before hard metal grabbed onto him and Peter and he briefly panicked, until they were above water again. 

\---

Tony Stark wasn't the first thing Atlas expected when he'd been brought out of the lake. Both he and Peter were coughing up water and Atlas watched as his friend took off his soaked mask. They shot each other a glance before turning to Iron Man. 

"Who are you?" Tony asked, staring pointedly at the kid. 

"Dunno, amnesia," he muttered, earning a glare from Peter. "Fine. Atlas Rossi." 

The suit stilled for a second before Tony resumed scolding Peter. 

That was a week ago. 

Atlas stilled to catch his breath, hands holding onto his knees as he huffed a bit. He'd left a note on Tanner's door, explaining that he'd gone out for a 5 AM jog, something he always used to do. It helped to clear his mind, make him sweat and keep him honed. 

Their father hadn't mentioned a word about the arms deal and Atlas had been too afraid to. He wanted to tell Mr. Stark everything, but that would mean going through Peter (who had panicked over the whole secret identity thing because now both Ned and Atlas pestered him with it) and Atlas had already lied and claimed his father was in the "wrong place at the wrong time." It was a weak explanation, and Atlas himself couldn't even believe it. Although, ever since surviving getting punched into a giant concrete wall, Atlas was having some internal dilemmas of his own. 

How did he manage to survive that? Was it dumb luck? Sure, he'd had some bruising, but just like his black eye, it was gone within three days and the soreness was the only evidence left that it had ever happened. Right now, he preferred to kinda... Sweep it all under the rug? Or, maybe that was exactly what he shouldn't do, but either way he didn't want to address it at all. 

He straightened himself out, taking off into another jog, noting how the gray of his sweatshirt was slowly darkening with sweat. It made him push himself even harder, reasoning that he was working out the soreness in his muscles in bones. The reality of it was, Atlas wanted to push himself until he collapsed and just died. 

Maybe, but not completely. 

He grunted, dodging a person on their early morning errands, running a little faster as he entered one of the more shady neighborhoods. He knew he should stay alert, but he couldn't help his wondering mind. Peter was so tough; would he act all skittish in a bad neighborhood? 

Atlas stopped, realizing he had been sprinting, coughing out a shaky breath as he felt his eyes water. He was comparing himself to everyone now, even Peter. He felt guilty because Peter didn't deserve to be mentally pulled into all of his self deprecating thoughts. He just groaned weakly, feeling his stomach churn as he ducked into an alley. He leaned over and dry heaved, nothing leaving his empty stomach, which proved to make him feel worse. Probably because he was thinking about how disappointed Peter would be. 

Dammit, was that kid all he could think about? He shoved himself off the wall angrily. He couldn't get a grip on himself or his emotions. 

"Help!" 

His head snapped further down the alley. A woman with wide, teary eyes was staring straight at him. A masked man held a gun to her throat as she clutched her purse weakly. Atlas froze as everything in him wanted to run, but they made eye contact, and damn that was his weakness. 

"Hey!" he yelled, stomping down toward the man. He practically jumped out of his skin as a gun was pointed on him. "Okay, uh, hey! Spider-man!" 

He could see the robber's eyes widen through his ski mask as he spun around to look at the roof where Atlas was pointing. He took the chance and grabbed the gun, but he was so terrified and not dialed into any of his weird, newly discovered strength as the man struggled with him and a gunshot ricocheted off the opposite wall. 

Finally, after the woman had run away, Atlas managed to toss the gun toward the entrance. "You, um, you better turn yourself in!" 

"Make me," the man growled, and Atlas clamped his eyes shut, slamming his fist into the brick near the guy's head. 

Please let this work...

He opened his eyes to see the guy gaping at his fist buried in the rock. Atlas pushed down the urge to celebrate his intimidation tactics and also scream because that fucking hurt, and instead fixed his gaze on the man's fearful eyes. 

"Turn yourself in," he grit out, "I'll know if you don't." 

That was a big ass lie, but the man didn't know that, and he nodded quickly, scrambling to escape the alley, even leaving his gun behind. Atlas waited until he was sure the guy was gone, before gently removing his hand. He hissed at the blood and bruising already pooling there, but he noted that there were no broken bones, as he could move his fingers fine and without stutter. 

"I just put a crater in brick," he whispered out loud, "oh my god, did Peter breathe his radioactive bullshit on me? I'm going to kill him, oh my god, holy shit!" 

Atlas took off, sprinting the rest of the way back to his apartment.


	4. FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlas decides to play dress-up— sorta. 
> 
> Peter is conflicted about everything. 
> 
> Ned is gay for the wrong guy. 
> 
> Everything still sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a more atlas-centric chapter and kinda delves into his development a little more. hope y'all like it!

Peter's head was an utter war zone when he got back to his bedroom, seeing Ned and Atlas perched on his bed asleep. They were a tangle of limbs, the smaller of the two curled into his companion's chest, being the far more twitchy of the two. Peter frowned, feeling completely left out, and perhaps a little jealous. Why? He didn't know. 

He cleared his throat, making Atlas' eyes go wide as he sat bolt upright, slamming his head into he metal frame of the top bunk. He groaned, reeling back and laying into the pillow. Ned was still snoring, and Atlas frowned, rolling on his side and using both his feet to effortlessly kick him to the floor. 

Peter laughed as Ned groaned, cursing Atlas briefly as he fully came to. "Man, why'd you have to wake us? It was a gay cuddle fest." 

"Platonic," Atlas cut in, rolling his eyes. 

"Have you seen your ass?" Ned quipped, making their long-haired friend sputter with wide eyes and a flushed face. 

"Shut up!" He cried, kicking Ned in the thigh. 

"Can we focus?" Peter asked, sighing as he threw one of his web-shooters to Ned. "I put a tracker on one of the baddies, we need to watch them." 

Atlas stretched and groaned, making Peter stare unabashedly at his exposed mid-section briefly, before the super-kid effortlessly leapt to his top bunk, retrieving his laptop. The eldest of the trio went to the kitchen, sifting through the cabinets before making a triumphant noise. 

"You guys want dinner?" He called back, hearing two affirmative grunts in response. "Spaghetti?" 

"Yes, you beautiful piece of—" 

"Ned!" Peter cut in, scowling at his friend. He stood up and gently shut his bedroom door, taking advantage of Atlas' absence for a moment. "Do you have a thing for him?" 

Ned paused, face flushing as he stared at the hologram tracker. 

"Maybe..." he huffed and ran a nervous hand through his hair, "I don't know man, maybe it's because he's, like, the only other dude who likes dudes that I know." 

Peter was zoning out, but he nodded anyway. 

"Why?" Ned asked, "I mean, why do you want to know?" 

Peter shrugged, regaining his composure as he leaned over his suit. He liked Liz, he was gonna get Liz, he was a superhero, and he was insanely smart. He was questioning his sexuality, sure, but that wasn't important right now as long as he had Liz. Peter was a nervous kid by nature, so he didn't really want to question why his heart sped up around the newest addition to his and Ned's friendship. 

Within five days, Atlas had managed to find out Peter's secret identity and proved that he couldn't be hurt by Peter's dumb shenanigans. That was more progress than anyone in his life, like, ever. His mind spun a web of conspiracy theories on just how Atlas figured it out, and how he'd seemed to come into his life at a convenient time. 

And hang on, why had Mr. Stark been so chill with him? He didn't go on his usual rant about "endangering civilians," and, in fact, after hearing Atlas' name, he didn't even speak to him further. Did he know something Peter didn't? 

Atlas swore his father was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but he'd hit Atlas and that guy at the underpass had called Atlas a super-freak. The fuck was up with that? 

Peter sat and reflected on how messed up and confusing his life was for about an hour, chewing on his lip until Atlas returned, carrying three plates of food. Ned was floored by the fact that Atlas could carry three, which got him a signature eye roll. 

"What's your mom like?" Peter blurted out. Maybe she was Atlas' connection to all of this. Was she some sinister super villain? 

"Dead," Atlas muttered, and Ned shot Peter a glare, "no, Ned, don't hug me— I don't care, good riddance."

"Why do you say that?" Peter asked quietly. Atlas shifted uncomfortably. 

"She was a drug addict. Tanner, Brad, Mark, and I all have different moms. I mean, I wasn't sure about me and Tanner having different ones because I didn't even know my mom was dead until recently— but I did some digging. Mark and Brad have the same mom, but Tanner and I have two different ones. It's just crazy that—" he paused and looked up at Peter and Ned, "never mind. Can we please change the subject?"

"Yeah," Peter breathed, "wait, was she on drugs when she had you?" 

Atlas glared, "that's none of your business." 

Peter forgot his manners in the midst of trying to rationalize Atlas' superhuman ability to get the fuck beat outta him and just have some minor bruising. 

"They stopped," Ned suddenly spoke, thrusting the holographic map out to Peter. Atlas silently bristled for a second as the two friends shared plans of how to get to where they had to go. It involved the Decathlon team, something that Atlas had been adamant about not getting dragged into. 

"You guys have fun with that," Atlas muttered, standing. 

"Where are you going?" Peter asked, his voice practically melting away every single inch of Atlas' protective exterior. 

"I have," he peeked back at him and sighed, "some things to figure out. I know you'll get the bad guys, Peter, you always do." 

\--

"All your strength," Tanner said confidently, and Atlas grimaced. "Come on! You just got a thousand times cooler, bro!" 

Atlas' grimace morphed into a smile. They were in the gym at 3 AM, the place completely deserted, except for them. Tanner was the only person Atlas could confide in with his problems, the only person he'd ever learned to completely trust. He just wasn't there yet with Peter or Ned. 

He drew his fist back and took a deep breath, before he slammed his hand into the heaviest punching bag they could find. The thing shot across the room and caused a fucking dent in the drywall, but not before it knocked over a rack of yoga mats. Tanner gaped for a minute before his face lit up. 

"Awesome!" he screeched, running over and latching onto Atlas, who was still staring at his mess with wide eyes. "You gotta be a superhero! Like Spider-man or— or Captain America!" 

Atlas shook himself back together, gently moving Tanner away from him. Everything he ever did with Tanner took extra effort to be gentle. 

"I've never... I never hit someone, not even as a kid," Atlas muttered, like he was in a trance, as he walked over and knelt down to the punching bag. He lifted it with ease and made a somewhat girly noise of surprise. "I've always been great at taking shi— crap, uh..." 

Tanner was staring at his big brother as if he'd strung up the stars. He was already so enraptured by the other boy, this just drove it all home, but for Atlas it gave him one more reason to hate himself. 

"I can't, Tanner. It would put you in danger, and... Think of the collateral damage," he dropped the bag and began to pace, "I couldn't even hit a mugger! I hit the wall, because I can't—" 

Can't what? Become his father? 

Images of a less than favorable family filled Atlas' mind and he looked to his feet. If he fought back, would things be better for Tanner? He didn't know, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. No matter how bad things got, he never wanted to fight. It terrified him because, what if one day he hit someone and couldn't stop? What if he damned someone to live life like him? 

He tried to focus again, but he felt his heart clench uncomfortably when he caught the disappointed look in Tanner's eyes. 

"You always said someone would come save us. Now you can save us, and you're just going to throw it all away?" he asked quietly. Fuck everything for giving Atlas such a smart kid. 

"I didn't mean it like that buddy," he said, matching Tanner's quiet tone. 

"Please," he pleaded, "I can make you a mask and everything!" 

Atlas pinched the bridge of his nose, peeking at his little brother's hopeful eyes. "Fine. I'll go out on a patrol one time, that's it." 

"Yes!" Tanner screamed, leaping into his brother's arms, who caught him easily. He sighed and ruffled his hair. The hair he wasn't gonna let Brad force the kid to cut. He could stick up for them now, after all. 

\---

The tactical mask that Tanner has rush ordered from Amazon was surprisingly comfortable, but it left Atlas' eyes totally exposed. He didn't really mind though, because really, who would recognize him based on his eyes? He had his hair pulled back into a tight braid, the last tufts of hair skirting the tips of the spine driving in between his shoulder blades. 

He was wearing a black hoodie, black skinny jeans, and combat boots that had cushioned soles so he didn't grumble about his sore feet when he bounced. Tanner looked him over once, before snapping his fingers. 

"If we gave you some eyeliner, you could totally be the Winter Soldier!" 

"No," Atlas groaned, "hey! That's my good shit from Ulta, put that back." 

Tanner rolled his eyes, mocking his older brother briefly, before tossing the eyeliner pen back in Atlas' small case of makeup. He liked practicing drag sometimes, don't judge. He leaned over and snapped the case shut, jumping as Tanner tossed a pair of leather fingerless gloves at him. 

"You're making me look like a school shooter!" Atlas argued, and Tanner shook his head. 

"It's for grip," he said matter-of-factly, "and besides, if you're only going out once, then humor me." 

"Fine," Atlas sighed, spinning around and holding his arms out, "look good, sir?" 

Tanner wrinkled his nose, "ew, don't call me that." 

Atlas chuckled, "sorry." 

He ducked out of the apartment after that, standing on the sidewalk awkwardly. How did Peter do this? He felt ridiculous, and furthermore, he was sure he looked ridiculous. He didn't know what to do with himself. Just walk around on the sidewalk and pick a fight? Maybe stop a couple? Escort old ladies around? 

He settled for scaling a fire escape, practically shitting himself once he got to the roof of a neighboring apartment building. Once again, how did Peter do this? 

After a couple jumps across several roofs, he started to get the hang of himself. He peered into alleyways as he jumped and he surveyed the street below. His eyes were averted as he made his way onto another building, but he practically jumped out of his skin as he bumped into someone, the two of them obviously shocking each other. The man before him looked strikingly like—

"Sorry," the stranger supplied, still staring, "you just... remind me of someone." 

"You too," Atlas supplied, before taking another once over. His eyes widened, "Captain?" 

The man nodded weakly. 

"I hate to be 'that guy' but, aren't you a war criminal?" Atlas questioned, tilting his head. The superhero tensed, looking back. 

"It's not important. Tell no one you saw me here." 

"Wait," Atlas rushed forward and tugged his wrist, "I think you can help me." 

The Captain stared back blankly, "yes?" 

"I can do things a normal person can't," he started slowly, watching the Captain for his reaction, "I'm really, really strong, and I can't seem to die which, admittedly, isn't a terrible thing. But I don't know why?" 

The Captain seemed like he didn't believe Atlas, until the boy lifted his foot and ground his heel into the roof, knocking all the way through. An old man stared up at them in shock from his living room and Atlas yelped, "sorry! Sorry." 

When he looked back up, he was alone. 

Perfect. 

\----

He wondered how his life had come to this point. 

Peter was in Washington, and Atlas? 

Atlas was stalking Captain fucking America while dressed like a fucking idiot and can he say fuck one more time? Fuck everything. 

He watched as the man snuck into an old abandoned building, following behind and trying to be as silent as possible. Why was Cap in such a run down place? Why in Queens? What was keeping him here? 

"Buck," he greeted, making Atlas' eyes go wide as he swallowed his fear. Standing right there was the Winter Soldier and Atlas felt something balling in the pit of his stomach. "I think I might've found him." 

The man's eyes lit up and he gripped the Captain's arms, "is he alive? Is he okay? What about his father— my son; are they still Rossi's?" 

Atlas' eyes went wide and his throat felt like closing off. Surely... It had to be a coincidence, right? He stumbled a bit in his stupor, eyes widening as he tripped over a loose brick and made a rather loud noise. Two sets of eyes tracked him suddenly, the moonlight making them both look even more intimidating. 

"You followed me," the Captain scolded, moving closer and causing Atlas to back up. 

"You— you said Rossi," he said breathlessly, "what about us?" 

"Atlas," a gentle voice spoke behind the American icon. Suddenly, the trained assassin looked so broken and quiet. "They used to show me pictures of you, as a baby..." 

"What the fuck?" he hissed, still backing away from the duo, "you're a war criminal, both of you! You killed innocent people!" 

"I'm your—" 

"Shut up!" Atlas covered his ears. He didn't want to know, he didn't want his fears to become real. He just wanted...

He just wanted Peter. Peter understood, and he'd look at Atlas with those warm and understanding brown eyes and he wouldn't feel so cold. At that moment, he was sure his blood had frozen still as he moved his hands away to cover his face. "Don't say it, I don't want to know. I can't... Not now." 

He spun around and ran as fast as possible, tripping his way down the stairs and out onto the street. The world around him spun and twisted, his heart pounding, blaring in his ears until he feared he might go deaf. He collected himself and ran as fast as possible, ripping his mask off and shoving it in his pocket, sucking in breaths greedily. His lungs burned and his eyes matched, and at that moment he was glad no one had followed him. 

He still thought about Peter, even then. What was wrong with him?


	5. FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things get a little gay and nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super short chapter for some nice "bro" bonding amirite

Peter was sure that kicking ass in Washington should be a lot more fulfilling than this. He had just saved Liz's ass and she was so star struck— maybe. Peter couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was becoming less interested in him everyday, and he couldn't help but notice how invested she seemed in everything Michelle did and said. It was sweet, but heartbreaking, because he really did have feelings for her. 

He sighed and leaned back, watching the trees flying past the bus as Ned chattered on in his ear, waving his hands animatedly as he recounted how it felt to be in the elevator. Peter couldn't help but feel even more stressed when he heard it all out loud. He'd almost lost one of his best friends that day, forgive him if he was a little emotionally exhausted. 

"I think I'm gonna do it, should I do it?" Ned asked, giving Peter wide eyes. 

"Uh, what? I sorta zoned out..." 

"Ask Atlas out," Ned said slowly, "I was thinking maybe a nice movie and stuff. And is he a top? I think he's a top." 

"No!" Peter said quickly, causing Ned to flinch and furrow his brow, "that would be... Weird." 

"How?" Ned scoffed, pausing, "wait, you have a thing for him don't you?" 

"Absolutely not!" Peter screamed, causing Flash to turn around and shout something about sleeping, effectively waking everyone on the bus. "I don't even know if I like guys, don't be... T-That's just... No!" 

Ned held his hands up in surrender, immediately launching into his date plans afterward. Peter grunted and tugged his hood up, cursing his Spidey senses as he couldn't block anyone or anything out. Suddenly the roar of the bus and the texture of the cold metal too much for him. 

He heard Atlas scolding him in his head, making Peter adjust himself so that he wasn't coming into direct contact with the window or siding. He shoved his earbuds in and went to YouTube, playing white noise and closing his eyes. 

"Just trust me," he remembered Atlas saying. He found that with just two weeks under their belts, he did. 

And that was a terrifying feeling. 

It was like looking at a dark cavern with the promise of water beneath you. You look without leaping, and suddenly a pretty boy with long hair is catching you and holding you to his chest, saying "everything will be okay." 

He wondered if there was any particular reason that he wanted to be wrapped in the other boy's arms right now. Ever since they'd met, Atlas had given off a strong aura, a sense of security that Peter was sure even Ned felt. He huffed and took out one of his earbuds when he felt like he could breathe again, scrolling through his phone until he found a number he thought he'd never use. Tony have given it to him before Berlin in case of a "severe" emergency. 

Peter took a deep breath, before excusing himself to the back of the bus, where he hit the call button and spoke quietly. 

"Hello...?" 

"Hi, Cap," he whispered, "Peter Parker here. I think you might be able to help me help my friend?" 

\--

Atlas thought he was going to fucking die when he saw the news. The Washington Monument, Spider-man saving them all. He'd run straight to Peter's apartment to comfort Aunt May, who was probably having a minor meltdown. Which was fine because Atlas was too, even though he logically knew Peter wasn't dead. The news had said no casualties. 

When the bus peeled into the parking lot, Aunt May had clung to Atlas and cried and he'd almost done the same. When Peter and Ned came out, Aunt May had wrapped them both in a hug and Atlas stood back, until Ned practically tackled him. 

"Oh, hey to you, too," he'd laughed, patting his friend on the back. But then he saw Peter, and the flood gates opened the second they made eye contact. He ran over and tackled him, slamming the duo back into the bus a little harder than he should have. They were both super-freaks, though, Atlas knew he could take it. 

"You idiot," Atlas whispered, feeling Peter curl his fingers into his hoodie and inhale, burying his face in his shoulder, "you absolute fucking idiot, you could have died." 

"I didn't," he shot back half-heartedly, letting himself melt into the embrace a little more. "I heard you had a run in with a couple of war criminals." 

Atlas backed up, narrowing his eyes, "how?" 

"From the war criminal himself," Peter muttered, suddenly gripping Atlas' hand with wide eyes, "stay the night, please..." 

Atlas was briefly shocked, but he nodded nonetheless, hopping into the car with Aunt May and Peter. They sat in the back together in silence and Atlas felt his heart skyrocket. He could've lost Peter, he could've lost his best friend and he was out playing dress-up and stalking Captain America. 

The rest of the ride back was silent, save for Aunt May's spiel on how both boys had to be more careful. It ended with Atlas practically launching himself out and toward the apartment when they pulled up outside. He still wasn't used to the whole feminine parental figure yet. Peter weakly laughed at him and followed, the duo collapsing into his bed as soon as it came in sight. 

"You're related to—" 

"The Winter Soldier," Atlas noted, raising his head from the pillow, "I gathered that. I want absolutely nothing to do with him. He's the reason I'm all... Weird and super-freaky." 

"You're not weird," Peter protested, making his friend scoff. 

"Can we talk about something else?" 

"Like?" 

"Like," Atlas muttered, throwing an arm over his friend and drawing him close, "sleep!" 

\---

"So that's... how that happened," Atlas murmured, giving up on changing subjects a long time ago. 

"Basically, he transferred down a diluted form of the serum down to you, at least according to Cap." 

"I dunno, doesn't really seem that diluted to me, although I do bleed easier, I guess," Atlas frowned, "okay, maybe it is diluted. Still, I wanna ask James for help, but how do I do that? He killed innocent people." 

Peter sighed, shaking his head, "look, I talked to Cap about that. Mr. Stark wasn't super explicit when he told me that Cap was defending his brainwashed friend." 

"Brainwashed? By who?" 

"HYDRA," Peter whispered, making Atlas' eyes widen. Everyone knew who and what HYDRA was, but Atlas couldn't help but still be a little confused. "Mr. Stark was doing what he thought he had to; he wanted to keep them all together as a team but now I'm beginning to understand Cap's side of things." 

"So James was brainwashed?" Atlas reaffirmed, "did they force him to kill those people?" 

"Yeah, and Mr. Stark is super touchy about it, and I wouldn't ever go against my mentor, but I hate to say it. He totally demonized him." 

"Maybe he hurt someone close to him," Atlas reasoned, "you can't know that, maybe he had his reasons for not telling you about everything."

Peter grumbled briefly, "but why?" 

Atlas clasped a hand on Peter's shoulder, "he probably thought omitting the human aspect of things would help you fight." 

"But I'm not a baby!" Peter screamed, making Atlas jump briefly, "he should've told me..." 

"Dads do what they think is right, they do their best," Atlas soothed, pushing down his own animosity toward his father. He spoke from experience with Tanner, knowing that he was the closest thing the kid would ever have to a father. 

"He's..." Peter sighed and trailed off. "What's it like to have a real dad?" 

"I wouldn't know," Atlas muttered, looking down and picking at a string on his hoodie. Peter looked up and watched him silently. 

"You've never been mugged before, have you?" 

"No," Atlas replied hoarsely. 

And that was that.


	6. SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What starts out as a wonderful family rendezvous ends in tragedy. HYDRA isn't dead, but now an innocent person is, and Peter feels like it's all his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so this chapter is really high action and quick paced so i apologize for how odd the flow of it is bc Yikes™

The notion that Peter wanted Atlas to reconcile with the small piece of family, true family, that he had left was something else. It warmed the older boy's heart, until he was actually on the way to the cryptic coordinates that Captain America had texted them (the whole 90 year old texting was weird, the dude used too many emojis,) seeing as how he was about to turn around and drag Tanner right back home. 

Peter was holding his hand though, and Atlas told himself it was just a friendly gesture, one sealing their new bond. But his stomach was already doing flips and Tanner was skipping along ahead of them as Atlas practically had a stroke at every passing of an alleyway. He didn't want Tanner hurt. The kid was too pure, matching some blue streaks in his hair to his nails, asking Atlas sweetly if he thought "grandpa" would like it. The whole thing was weird, not Tanner's self expression, but the whole Winter Soldier being their grandfather thing. 

The abandoned building was out past a small suburb, being located in part of the area that was long abandoned and being renovated. Atlas supposed if there was a place you wouldn't suspect a couple war criminals to be hiding out, it would probably be there. And the second he spotted the fucking Falcon, he had Tanner behind him, a dark glare fixed on the man. He wasn't chancing anything. When it came to Tanner he would have no problem pummeling someone. 

The stairs up to the room they'd heard the voices emitting from made the place feel more like a parking garage than a building. All the windows were open, leaving them totally exposed in the rickety concrete structure, and Atlas was reasonably a little skittish. Peter took a deep breath, giving his companion a smile. Atlas told himself that if Peter would compromise his secret identity for this, then it was the least he could do. 

James and the Captain stilled as they entered the room, Tanner's eyes going wide as he stepped out. He made a noise of shock and the soft look that crossed James' face made Atlas let his guard down briefly. 

"You're the Winter Soldier... You're real... That's so cool!" Tanner cried, running over to the man before Atlas could grab him. James visibly flinched but didn't move otherwise, letting Tanner inspect his metal arm with a curious look on his face. 

"Thank you," Cap said quietly, "sometimes he gets quiet, distant. But he knows you, I think." 

"How?" Atlas muttered, eyes staring at his little brother. Peter had situated himself on one of the walls, leaning back and watching them all interact. 

"I think they used you as leverage. Your pictures... Buck wasn't careful when he had his affairs in Italy, everyone in HYDRA was acutely aware of your father's birth, and then later, yours and your brothers," he elaborated. Nothing sounded far-fetched at this point. You could tell Atlas he was the Captain and Mr. Stark's lovechild and he'd just nod. 

"So people... Bad people, do they know Tanner exists?" Atlas asked. 

"As far as I know, Bucky wasn't super aware he had more than you..." 

Atlas frowned, "that's impossible. I have two older brothers. But, I'm the only one who..." 

The gears in Atlas' head began turning and he felt sick briefly, "do you think my mom had the serum too?" 

Cap looked conflicted for a moment, "it might be what triggered it in you and not the others. Tony originally said it was because both of your parents had sickle cell anemia, and the mutations triggered another, but that was years ago—" 

"You've known for years?" Atlas whisper-yelled, "and Ironman... Never once had it crossed your mind to tell me, to contact me?" 

"Buck wanted his family to have a normal life; he didn't want someone to find you and hurt you." 

"He doesn't get to make that call," Atlas grit out, trying to calm himself down, "and anyway, Peter said Mr. Stark was informed that HYDRA had dissolved." 

"So they say," Cap shrugged, "but it's not like Tony and me are on great terms, anyway." 

"Atlas!" Tanner cried, dragging James behind him easily. Atlas refused to call him Bucky. "You guys will get along, I know it!" 

Suddenly they were inches apart, face to face for the first time. Green looking into blue, damaged looking into damaged, and in that moment, Atlas wanted to cry.

He wasn't alone; he and Tanner had family now. But none of this could be vocalized until James' fingers ghosted through Atlas' hair. 

"You look just like your father..." 

Anyone else would've been shoved away, shut out. Atlas didn't like being reminded of that, but now, looking into James he saw the family resemblance. Atlas was a spitting image of the elder Rossi's, though he supposed he should probably say Barnes, considering that Rossi was only an alias. Leave it to James to get married under an alias. 

"Is he good to you?" he asked gently, pulling back a bit. Tanner shot Atlas a pained look. 

"He's never around," Tanner said, quietly kicking at a piece of concrete, "Atlas has always taken care of the house and me. Brad and Mark don't do anything but sit on their asses—" 

"Ah!" Atlas snapped his fingers at his little brother, making James and Cap snicker for the first time that day. 

"Sorry..." Tanner murmured, sheepishly ducking his head a bit. 

Atlas caved, opening one arm so that Tanner could securely wedge himself there. He looked back to James to see him regarding the two fondly. His arm was lacking the signature red star that Atlas remembered seeing in pictures and he reminded himself to ask about it later. 

"I think this is all the rehabilitation I need," James addressed Cap, going a little watery and rubbing at his eyes. "I just need my family." 

Tanner immediately left Atlas' side and latched onto his grandfather, bursting into tears. Atlas knew why. It felt so odd to be wanted by a dominant masculine figure, and even Atlas felt choked up briefly. 

"Uh, Cap?" Peter suddenly said, leaning up off the wall, his eyes darting around. "There's—" 

"Steve! We got something incoming!" Falcon shouted, gliding in through one of the openings. Atlas immediately grabbed Tanner, shoving him toward Peter. 

"We need to go," he said, taking Peter's shoulder, "now!" 

"But what about—" 

"Peter Parker if you endanger my little brother you will be a dead man," Atlas hissed, "and only I am allowed to kill you, so hurry up!" 

He cast one more look over his shoulder as he saw James squaring his jaw, before shooting Atlas a helpless and lost look. He didn't want them to go... On a snap judgment, Atlas sprinted to his grandfather, wrapping him in one of the most genuine hugs he'd ever given. It didn't take any time for the man to respond, cool metal sliding against the younger man's back. 

"This isn't goodbye," Atlas whispered, "he needs you. I need you." 

"I'll be here," James said, and that was good enough. Atlas moved away, nodding once, before joining Peter and Tanner at the base of the stairs. 

Peter's mind was going haywire with tons of different input as he slipped his mask on, shoving his jeans and jacket he'd been wearing over his suit into his backpack. Atlas grabbed the bag as Peter tossed it to him, sifting out his mask and pulling his hair back as he slung the Jansport over his shoulders. He grabbed Tanner, taking off in a sprint down the street. He was sure he was gonna shit himself as someone he'd only fucking dreamt of landed in front of him.

A fucking HYDRA agent. 

He shouted unintelligible Russian at the duo and Atlas backed away helplessly, holding onto Tanner's arm so hard that he feared it might bruise. But then, his hand was empty, and he thought he was gonna vomit everywhere. Panic set in as he spun around to see a man restraining his little brother, which immediately set him off, but before he could jump toward the man there was a sharp pinch in his neck, making his veins feel like pure ice. He stuttered something incoherent, before collapsing to the pavement. 

\--

Peter was struggling to get near them, before a shield was in front of him, blocking the stray bullets. Later, he'd have to ask Cap how the hell he managed to get that back, but right now he could only focus on one thing: Atlas. 

He'd heard it; the one phrase that turned everything into a terrible shakespearean play with cliche dramatic irony. "HYDRA dissolved," Peter's fucking ass. 

He ran down the street, eyes widening at the retreating vehicle. "No!" he screamed, going to chase it down. He stopped in the street at the sight before him. 

Tanner was in a pool of his own blood, coughing and choking, the young boy obviously panicking. Peter's eyes went wide as he instructed his suit to alert medical and scan for injuries. 

They'd shot the boy in his jugular vein and left him to die. 

Peter let out a wail as he fell to his knees, shaking hands going up to press at the side of Tanner's neck. "Come on, please, no, come on!" 

The little boy stared up at Peter with wide, fearful eyes. He kept choking on his own blood, yet he still managed to break Peter's heart with a single question, "why does dying hurt?" 

He shook his head, "it doesn't, no, you're not dying!" 

He was full on panicking at this point, screaming at his suit to call Mr. Stark, Happy, the National Guard, anyone! A child didn't have to die, no, please not today. Not because Peter wasn't fast enough. 

He heard thudding footsteps behind him and he instinctually curled around the dying boy's shaking form. He would protect him with his body.

"Let me see!" a voice rasped, metal hand gripping the child's throat and effectively stopping the blood loss. It didn't matter now, it was only a matter of comfort. "Oh my god, no, they can't take you from me!" 

He was shaking too, Peter noted, and he felt mad at Mr. Stark in that moment. If he had Ironman's protection, would a kid be dying? If he answered his phone and helped James and Steve, would any of this happened?

"They took Atlas," Tanner whimpered, "he's not as tough as he says he is, pa, please don't let him get hurt." 

James kept a strong face for the child and nodded, "I promise." 

There was one more stuttering breath and choking noise, before the boy's form stilled and James tensed. Peter let himself go at that point, shaking his head wildly as he stumbled back, feeling himself knock into a strong chest. Steve held onto him briefly, saying "it's not your fault." 

"It's my fault they're even here!" Peter screamed, spinning around and roughly shoving the other man off, "it's my fault a child is dead! And now— now they could torture and kill my best friend!" 

The road was silent as the men all stood there, watching Peter panic, before the teen collapsed to his knees again, letting out weak sniffles and cries as he was picked up. It was James that was holding him, the stoic face returning as he carried him back toward the building. 

It was all fuzzy after that. 

\---

"Good morning, soldier." 

The white light in Atlas' eyes made him groan, sluggishly tugging at his restraints. Huh, that was new... Come to think of it, where even was he? What was happening? 

A mouth guard was shoved in his mouth and a man's ugly, smiling face was in his. He was situating something on Atlas' head, and the boy was too drained and weak to protest. 

"We figured we should give you a little introduction to your training here. See, your dearest grandfather needs to be reminded that as long as he lives, he must be put in check," the man smiled, leaning back to give the headpiece on Atlas a once over. "It's going to hurt. A lot." 

Suddenly, a machine whirred and before Atlas could even catch his breath, a sharp electric current traveled through the wires and straight to the headpiece. His eyes went wide as he screamed around the mouthpiece, every muscle on him going tense at the currents as he felt his brain pleading with god to just fucking kill him. 

"The only way out is to kill!" the man laughed, turning the machine down minutely, "that's the common theme here. Learn it, and learn it quick."

Atlas groaned and hunched forward as the machine was turned off. "You will kill when you hear these words." 

He vaguely registered the Russian phrases in his brain, before his jaw was grabbed and his head was roughly forced up. 

"Family, science, air, panic, extraordinary, and case." 

The words left a bad taste in his mouth but he nodded, desperately wanting to sleep. He'd just woken up but the pain flooding his senses was enough to make him drowsier than he'd ever been. He let out a pitiful groan as the man shook him by his shoulders. 

"Sleep makes you weak, soldier," he reasoned, the stern look on his face dissolving into his earlier sinister smile. He backed away and went through a large metal door. Atlas felt his eyes slipping shut, his brain barely registering the crackling sound of an old intercom before the barking began. 

He was wide awake now, eyes widening at the six Rottweilers let into the room. The ran to him and he screamed the first time they bit into him, but after that he couldn't muster the strength. He just let out weak cries and pleas around his mouth guard. 

He had never wanted Spider-man to swoop in and save the day more than he did now.


	7. SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlas struggles with being morphed into a killing machine meant to rival his own family. He is decided to be irrelevant after showing weakness around Peter. 
> 
> But just because he's home doesn't mean he's really there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this is really all over the place (as usual) but anyway we get to see some real cute peter and atlas. but damn poor atlas gets his ass handed to him in this chapter :^(

For someone who'd never even hit another person, holding a gun to one's head within one week was a huge leap. Atlas felt numb when he did it, like it wasn't even him. He forgot everything but how to pull a trigger when it happened, and when he came to, when his conscious came flooding back with cries of "what have I done?" he was shown videos of the entire experience. 

"Good morning, soldier," a man addressed, making Atlas go weak against his restraints. "Your friends are out looking for you, you know?" 

Atlas' eyes shot up. 

"Spider-man?" the man questioned, looking down at a photo. He clicked his tongue quietly. "That one in particular has had a rough time, what with the blood on his hands." 

"What?" Atlas whispered, "he wouldn't hurt anyone..."

The man knelt forward and showed Atlas a picture. 

"No!" he slammed forward against his restraints, clamping his eyes shut. 

"It's your little brother's funeral, now be a dear and at least look at it!" 

Atlas shook his head violently, a mantra of "it's not Peter's fault," playing in his head. Right now, Atlas needed a hug more than anything. But in this place he wouldn't get it. 

"Your spider-friend is the reason he's dead, you know," the man tutted, frowning animatedly, "he couldn't get to him in time." 

"That's not his fault," Atlas sobbed weakly, his throat aching, "Peter, it's not your fault!" 

He was whining and babbling incoherently, his head hurting from all the stress and stimulus. He heard the first word, the first syllable of "family" and he was letting out the loudest and broken scream he could manage. 

It earned him a night in a pitch black room, stripped naked and sprayed with an icy hose whenever he began to drift off to sleep. Atlas learned about his mother being an agent of HYDRA, not malicious but rather a burnout who wanted easy cash. She'd taken the serum without question and she and his father had combined to make him a super soldier. 

Soldier. Atlas was a kid, he was 17, he wasn't a soldier. Now he was going to live with his PTSD and trauma from this the rest of his life. He just wanted out. 

He groaned and leaned back against the wall, sighing as he heard barking again. His brow creased as he launched himself forward. He attacked the animals without even being told to, which was apparently the right answer, because he was rewarded with dry clothes and a cot. 

He didn't sleep. 

He'd murdered people, whether innocent or not, it didn't change a thing. He'd been brainwashed to fucking kill people if he heard a certain sequence of words. He folded in on his malnourished frame, shuddering at the thoughts of returning to the real world. He would just endanger everyone. 

But now, who did he have to lose?

Spider-man and James. 

Peter and Bucky. 

He closed his eyes and dreamt of red and silver, but now it came in the form of spandex and a metal arm instead of a gun and bloodshed. 

\--

He stumbled wearily as he made his way through deserted streets. Where... Who was he? When...

He felt a hand clasped on his back and his time in HYDRA's clutches came flooding back. But he didn't protest as he was lead to an abandoned building, one with lights and voices murmuring in it. He remembers being a person at some point, a whole human and not some machine. He remembers having a name at some point but... What was it? Fuzzy. 

He was told to go up to the highest floor and to not mention the man. The soldier nodded, his heavy feet echoing through the structure. It felt warm, though anything was warm compared to where his home was. Did he have a home before that? 

"Atlas...?" 

The voice was so weak and broken that he felt bad for not recognizing it. 

"Who's Atlas?" he asked quietly, looking between the several men. "Why... I don't know why I'm here..." 

"It's me!" the boy reiterated, making Atlas go stiff. He grabbed his shoulders and shook him gently. "It's Peter!" 

Peter...

Brown eyes. Warm. Pretty. 

Home. 

He gently brought a hand up to cup the boy's cheek, "Peter..." 

"Family," a foreign voice cut in, causing everyone to stand up. 

"No," Atlas suddenly said, shoving Peter back. 

He was Atlas Rossi. These were his friends. Family. The word was bitter. 

"Science, air, panic." 

"No, don't you make me do this!" He screamed toward the stairs, the world going blurry as he covered his ears, "I was good, please!" 

"Focus," someone said to his right, taking his arms in his hands. Bucky. Grandfather. Family of soldier. "Listen to me, not him!" 

Shouting. Loud. Gun. Red running. 

"Extraordinary." 

Target is armed. All targets are armed. 

"Case." 

The soldier's eyes snapped open and he gripped the other man's arm, ripping it away as roughly as possible. The steel felt cold and grounding, reminding the soldier that the sooner there was red, the sooner he could sleep. 

"Atlas, what are you doing?" A voice cried. Doe eyes. 

Beautiful. 

The man from earlier emerged, unarmed and holding his hands up in surrender. 

"You have your orders soldier," he smiled, looking toward Bucky, "well, hello again!" 

"Atlas, please!" 

Pretty voice. Beautiful face. Lovely eyes. 

Best friend. 

"Go!" Atlas suddenly screamed, stumbling back and clutching his head. He felt someone grabbing him as everything went dark again. 

The dark was better than being awake. 

\---

"How many days?" 

"Twenty three," the soldier wheezes, doubled over in pain as he tries to keep his eyes level with the screen in front of him. He bites out a, "sir." 

"And you still are weaker than him." 

The soldier drops his head and closes his eyes. 

"You are irrelevant, but I suppose you won't exactly make it easy for him. Go." 

"Sir?" his eyes snap up. Too easy. Has to be a trick. 

"You're a ticking time bomb, and they'll all be too blind to see it." 

The soldier went to protest, but the man spoke again. One simple word that began triggering so many memories, "Atlas." 

He'd been left in the middle of New York, nowhere to turn. He was trying to remember himself, fully, as Atlas and not just a soldier who'd been bred and captive for over three weeks. His bones ached and his head hurt and even in this state he felt nothing to live for. He faintly remembers freaking out over a metal bird man, the memory now so distant that he's sure it was probably a dream. When things were simpler. 

When he was just a kid. 

Just over a month in the city. That's all it had taken. 

He hadn't even noticed he'd entered an apartment building until he was on the 7th floor, his hand knocking against the wood door. A woman answered, her eyes going wide at he sight of him. 

"Oh, sweetheart," she whispered, tugging the boy in. "Peter!" 

The friend. The beautiful boy came back and the soldier felt human. His face scrunched up and he stumbled closer. 

"Alone this time," he said hoarsely, "they told me— the soldier is irrelevant. I failed my primary function." 

Peter was staring at him stunned, before moving closer to inspect the soldier for wires. When he found none, he rested a gentle hand on his cheek. "The soldier made us all proud. He did just fine."

Atlas blinked. Soldier. Atlas. The same person. 

"I want to sleep." 

Peter let out a laugh at that, sniffling a bit. "Let May get you something to eat," he turned to the woman, "please?" 

She nodded quickly, Peter moving Atlas gently into his room. It felt familiar in an odd way, and the soldier felt his body immediately slump and relax. 

"Aunt May found out about the secret identity thing while you were gone. Liz and I went to homecoming together and her dad turned out to be Vulture." 

"That is a lot for me to take in and my memory hurts," Atlas said, "refrain from speaking so quickly." 

Peter blinked, finding a bit of humor in the situation. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism. "Your memory hurts?" 

Atlas thought for a moment before his eyes slipped closed and he nodded, "hurts." 

Peter felt the humor dissolve at that as he moved over, gently working on removing the leather tactical vest they'd outfitted him with. He instructed Atlas to take the rest off while he moved to get him clean clothes. When he turned back, the other boy was naked. And while Peter's face flushed, he didn't find anything about the situation sexual. Atlas looked so broken and tired, and Jesus, he already had scars lining his young body. He couldn't help but miss that they'd been rough literally all over, the thin white lines and dots moving all the way to his groin. 

He made a command decision and herded Atlas into the bathroom, slipping his own jacket off so that he was in short sleeves. He started the shower and immediately heard a thud as Atlas leapt up and pressed himself against the opposite wall. 

"I didn't disobey, I didn't!" he looked at Peter with terrified eyes, "I didn't, I followed orders, please don't!" 

"Okay, okay! It's okay!" Peter said, quickly turning the water off. He held his hands up and tried to calm himself down before preceding. "Would you rather try a bath?" 

Atlas inspected the tub, before looking back at Peter. "It will be warm water?" 

"Of course, it can be whatever temperature you want." 

The soldier seemed stunned. "Not punishment?" 

"Not punishment," Peter echoed. The eldest nodded, letting Peter begin to run him some warm bath water. 

When the tub was full, he helped his weary friend in. He'd accepted him back so quickly because it was a dream come true to have Atlas back. Questions could wait. 

Peter knelt down and watched as his friend sighed and reclined back in the tub. His muscles all seemed to relax at the warmth washing over him and Peter wanted to cry. They'd tortured him and it was his fault, wasn't it? 

He wordlessly grabbed a wash cloth and squirted a generous amount of bath wash onto it. Atlas didn't even move as Peter began to clean away the dirt and blood caked to him, turning the water a pinkish-brown. He gently lifted the exhausted soldier's head, wetting and washing his hair. 

Getting him to stand and get out was the hard part. It was heartbreaking to watch how he winced, like even the smallest of movements hurt him. Nevertheless, once he was dressed in Peter's PJs, he seemed so much more himself, immediately going to make himself at home in Peter's bottom bunk. 

Aunt May had brought him homemade chicken noodle soup and you would've thought that Atlas had received the entirety of Tony Stark's estate. He scarfed it down greedily, and Peter gave up the rest of his to his friend. It was a sweet gesture because Atlas had tilted his head curiously and asked, "for me?" 

After they finished, Peter changed into something more comfortable himself, saying, "I'll be in my top bunk if you need me." 

"Peter—" Atlas shot up and grabbed him by the ankle, "don't leave me, please. It's always so cold, I can't sleep." 

Peter caved at that and joined his friend, covering them both in his thickest comforter and allowing Atlas to curl into his side. 

\----

"I remember your eyes," Atlas whispers as they lay awake at 1 AM. "The first time I really looked at them was a party." 

Peter brushed a hand through Atlas' still damp hair. "Really?" 

"They are still, to date, the prettiest things the soldier... I, have ever seen," he said, shifting up to look at the very thing he was talking about, "they are beautiful and don't make me crave murder." 

Peter snorted. Well, that's one way to put it. 

"Yours are beautiful too, Atlas." 

At hearing his name, the soldier made an affirmative noise, "I am Atlas." 

"You are, very good," Peter said drowsily, hugging him closer to him as a reward. 

"I want to be good," Atlas muttered, "when I'm bad the hurt gets so much worse and then when I ask them to kill me they get even madder and—" 

Peter kissed the soldier's forehead, effectively making him freeze. "Breathe," Peter whispered. 

"I do not want to hurt beautiful eyes," Atlas noted, "seeing them cry makes the hurt worse. The soldier. Atlas has positive feelings regarding Peter Parker." 

"That's good to know," Peter laughed, pushing Atlas' hair from his eyes. He nuzzled into the younger boy's hand. 

"Best friends. After a few days," Atlas struggled out. Remembering things made his vocabulary choppy, Peter noted, and his fatigue definitely wasn't helping. "That is illogical." 

"Okay, Spock," Peter snickered. He was met with a blank stare in return. "We just clicked." 

Atlas seemed to accept that, resting his head in the crook of Peter's neck; the younger boy didn't fall asleep until he was sure his companion's even snores meant he was staying asleep.


	8. EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Atlas are moved to the Avengers Compound in hopes of rehabilitation, while Peter faces influence and an internal battle. 
> 
> Atlas is becoming more himself, but his mind still brings out "the soldier" in an effort to protect him. 
> 
> It's still progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated <3

The soldier stirred in his sleep, feeling around for the warmth beside him. It was missing. Beautiful eyes would get hurt if the soldier couldn't protect him. He shot up, socked feet sliding on the floor and causing him to slam his hip into Peter's table with a grunt, before he managed to make his way into the living room. 

He was panting when he rounded the corner, seeing two men sit across from him. Captain America and Winter Soldier. High profile threats to beautiful eyes. Watch them carefully. 

Aunt May walked in and attempted to pat the soldier on the back, which resulted in him jumping so violently that he feared he'd fall through the floor. The noise alerted the men to the soldier's presence, something that he would've been punished for back home. 

"Hi, Atlas," Captain spoke. The soldier slowly moved into the room. 

"I am Atlas," he looked to beautiful eyes for reassurance. 

"Very good," Peter said. 

"You. Were gone, and if you're gone I can't protect you, and then, what if— they are going to hurt beautiful eyes and I—" 

Peter was to his side in the blink of an eye, cupping his face and gently shushing him, "I'm right here now, Atlas. I won't go anywhere." 

He nodded weakly, peeking up through his eyelashes, "the soldier is sorry." 

"You have nothing to apologize for," a choked voice said. The Winter Soldier. Atlas dug through his mind for any recognition, finding that any he had was tainted with bad stimulus in an attempt to make him harbor sour feelings toward the other soldier. He still did not. 

"You talk more than they said." Atlas eyed him curiously, letting Peter guide him to sit down. "They said. You were a killer but they are hypocrites because they made me—" 

The memories came rushing back all at once, the screaming and bullets. The searing pain, the dogs, the torture. He whined and held his head in his hands, folding in on himself. The Winter Soldier, Bucky, he told Peter not to touch him but that's what he needed right now to stay grounded. Three and a half weeks couldn't completely damage his psyche, but it could give him a hell of a run with PTSD. 

"Peter, they made me kill people," he gasped, arm flying out to grip the aforementioned's shirt, "I killed people. They got me to kill people within three weeks. Tanner is dead!" 

The information was a lot, and as if a switch had been flipped, his hand relaxed its hold on beautiful eyes. He opened his eyes and straightened up, green irises dully scanning the room. The Winter Soldier looked pained. 

"I. Apologize," the soldier said stiffly, "I have suppressed the memories for the time being. The soldier would rather not hurt anyone else." 

That was that. 

Until Mr. Stark walked in. 

\--

The compound was to be used as Bucky and Atlas' personal rehabilitation center, surrounded by friends and family to ease the abused soldiers' minds. They found comfort in each other, and Atlas was like a kid in a candy store when the secretary of defense had begrudgingly pardoned Bucky. 

Peter was busy with school and Ned, making the reluctant decision to drive a wedge between him and Atlas. He could see that the soldier was going to become codependent and that wasn't any good for either of them. It was crazy to think about the fact that he'd only known Atlas six weeks. 

"I'll check in on you Saturday," Peter said, dodging a hug. Lying to himself. Steve shot him a look, although it wasn't anything like the look of pride Mr. Stark was giving him. Tony did his best, or what he thought was best, and he told Peter that while he might've been wrong about Bucky he wasn't wrong in trying to separate the two teens. He didn't want Peter being put into any situations like Steve. 

"You. Beautiful eyes is not staying?" Atlas asked, brows furrowing in confusion. 

"I can't, buddy. School, remember? Ned? Do you remember Ned?" 

"Affirmative," he muttered, looking to his fingers and rocking to and fro on his feet. The soldier couldn't shake the feeling that this was punishment. What had he done wrong now? 

"I promise I'll be here Saturday," Peter smiled, but Atlas wasn't looking. He was invested in a hangnail on his left hand. 

"Okay," the soldier said emotionlessly, "affirmative." 

Peter resisted the urge to wrap the other boy in his arms and keep him situated there until he remembered everything. Maybe Mr. Stark was wrong to separate them... 

Atlas was lead with Bucky to shared quarters, their beds on opposite walls. Vision had said it was so the two could bond and work through memories together. Their files were both laying on a glass table, Bucky's far thicker due to age. Atlas didn't have any desire to look through his without Peter there, but he didn't think the boy was coming back anytime soon. Saturday was so far away. He felt like a dog dropped off at the pound. 

Atlas let out a dramatic huff as he sat down on his bed. Bucky opened his file and sucked in a sharp breath, closing it directly after. Even though he had memories, he had to work through the rest. Traumatic ones and all. He took a seat with his grandson, the two staring off at the wall. 

"I am. So tired of the hurt," Atlas whispered, "I am only 17." 

"The hurt will always be there, at least a little bit. But I started to get better; I'm getting better. They had you for such a short time, I know you'll be okay." 

"I want Peter," he said in a surprising moment of clarity, wide greens turning to search Bucky's face, "and he doesn't want me." 

"How do you want him?" Bucky asked quietly, taking the moment to wrap an arm around the teen's shoulders. Atlas relaxed immediately. 

"I think I have a crush on him. He's the only one who makes me feel better. I've liked him since the day I saw him. I mean, I blew off a popular kid to hang with him and Ned after being in school for five minutes," he scoffed, pausing. "Oh my god. I did that, I remember doing that..." 

"Shh; that's enough for now, try to lay down and rest. Just think about that one memory for now, okay? That's what I did. I didn't wanna get overwhelmed, so I focus on one at a time until I can remember it so vividly..." Bucky sighed and stood, moving to his own bed. 

He watched Atlas fall asleep with a small smile ghosting his lips. He felt okay for right now. He had Steve and Atlas. But Atlas only had him; Peter wasn't here. 

\---

"I can do it!" Atlas called, rushing to grab the eggs from the fridge. Tony had to admit that he didn't mind his time with the kid when Barnes and Steve weren't at the compound. He reminded him of a broody, sometimes brainwashed Peter. He felt a little guilty when he went quiet, asking in broken english where "beautiful eyes" had gone. But Tony told himself it was for both of their sakes. 

He grabbed the carton eagerly, succeeding in cracking several eggs on himself. Apparently whatever torture methods they'd used had left mild brain damage in its wake. Sometimes the boy would have a random twitch briefly or a stalling of words altogether. The most common occurrence, one which it seemed the teen would have to battle with for a while, was the way his strength seemed almost heightened, dialed up to 11, as Peter would say. 

"Damn," he grumbled, holding the carton out to Tony who took it. He washed his hands vigorously, obviously a little angry with himself. 

"Hey, kid, don't sweat it." 

"I have to," he muttered, "Peter is coming Saturday. I don't want to hug him and break him." 

"Our little spider is much tougher than he looks," Tony said, pointing to Atlas with a spatula. The boy frowned curiously. "And besides, judging by the total heart eyes he gets around you, he'd probably thank you for it." 

"Incorrect," the soldier grunted, moving to sit stiffly at the bar stool. "Beautiful eyes is delicate. Metaphorically?" 

That piqued Tony's interest. "Oh?" 

It was obvious that he was getting jumpier, his mind shuffling between soldier and Atlas at rapid rates now, and honestly Tony didn't know if that was a good thing or not. 

"The death of. Tanner hurt him," the soldier said quietly, the levelness of his voice wavering, "he is too nice for the soldier. I do not deserve him, as I only bring hurt." 

Then Tony understood, "you mean Peter is emotionally sensitive?" 

A nod. 

"Well, soldier," Tony joked, momentarily regretting it at the way the kid stiffened, "he's 15 and has witnessed a lot more than most kids his age. It's not your fault. Peter wants to be here for you, I know it." 

"Did you just reassure me?" the soldier blanched, eyes traveling to meet Tony's. 

"Yeah, well, depressed, puppy-like super soldiers aren't exactly something I like to deal with. So... chin up?" Tony watched as a conflicted yet sated look crossed the boy's face. 

"I understand why beautiful eyes considers you a father. You are good. But you are stiff, like me," the soldier motioned to himself, "not good."

Tony rolled his eyes and resumed cooking for the duo, petting his ego for a moment. He didn't mind the kid, he guessed. 

"Although you. Must stop drinking." 

Tony whipped around, "how can—" 

The soldier tapped his nose, "if you die then Peter will feel worse and I will be motivated to make rash decisions in his best interest. So. Stop it." 

Maybe everyone needed a pushy, brainwashed kid.


	9. NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlas has windows of clarity with only brief intervals of flashbacks. He agrees to go to the city with Peter, and their rendezvous ends with a sweet encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow so some peter/atlas action goes on 
> 
> enjoy :^)

Saturday came so fast for Atlas that he was actually happy for the first time in a while. He'd jumped out of bed and ran through the compound when the "doorbell" rang. When Happy and Peter walked through, Atlas didn't care that Tony was talking to them at all; today he was remembering more and more, his good night's sleep only adding to his excitement. 

"Peter!" he cried, sliding across the slick floors into his friends grasp. 

"Hey, buddy," Peter inhaled, strong arms wrapping around Atlas in a comforting embrace. 

"I'm getting better," he said immediately, "ask me how we met!" 

"How'd we meet?" Peter asked, grinning from ear to ear when Atlas began to recount the memory in vivid detail. He leaned in and hugged the boy again, closing his eyes and burying his head in his shoulder, "I'm so proud of you." 

He felt Atlas tense, and for once, the older boy seemed fidgety and nervous around Peter. His face was pink, the rose-colored dusting reaching up to the tips of his ears. He coughed a bit and cast a look behind him at Bucky, who was smiling contentedly. 

"Thanks, um, pal!" Atlas said, face flooding with immediate regret, "that was dumb, don't ever let me say that again." 

"Can do," Peter smiled, "and anyway, I was thinking maybe we could go out today?"

Atlas' head perked up at that. Ever since his conversation with Bucky, he'd been thinking about a possible crush on Peter more and more. Hell, it wasn't just possible anymore. He had a big crush on Peter, an obviously unrequited one. 

"Sure," Atlas said, eyes flicking back to Tony pleadingly. 

"I don't think it's a good idea," Tony sighed, folding his arms on over his chest, "but I can't handle another awkward, early morning conversation with my future, super soldier son-in-law." 

"What?" Peter's eyes went wide and Atlas practically drug Peter out the door, shooting a mean glare at Tony. 

"Get your license?" Atlas questioned, raising his brow. He felt odd being outside; sort of terrified and exposed, but he pushed it down for the time being. 

"No, but I thought we could like..." Peter frowned and his face flushed as it fell in his hands, "god, its such a stupid idea." 

Atlas laid a gentle hand on the boy's arm, thanking god that his strength wasn't going all apeshit at the moment. He was also thinking got that his brainwashing wasn't also going all apeshit at the moment. "Nothing you think could ever be stupid." 

Peter remembered the time he imitated Thor in the mirror.

"Um... Anyway," he shook himself off, "I thought maybe swinging around the city would cool your mind off?" 

Cool his mind off. Atlas bit his lip, wondering if he should abuse his mind with skipping off to the city. His psyche was still fragile and being in the crowded streets might not—

Peter was Spider-man. They wouldn't be in the streets. 

"Okay, that would work..." 

\--

Atlas enjoyed being in Peter's arms when they were in the air, although he could totally outrun the boy when it came to running across rooftops. He missed laughing together, and right now, that's all that they were doing. 

"Hurry up!" Atlas giggled, looking behind him as Peter swung his way toward him. He went to jump up a slightly steep ledge, but he missed and frowned, watching as Peter effortlessly perched himself there. "That's not fair!" 

"Using your weird, stupidly fast legs is?" Peter prodded, earning a huff as Atlas struggled onto the ledge, having to have Peter grab him and hoist him up at one point. "I'm kidding!" 

Atlas shoved him playfully, but Peter had other ideas, using his sticky ass hand to grip the other boy as they fell into a heap on top of each other. Atlas briefly panicked as he was pinned, and the second Peter noticed it he rolled over so that their roles were reversed. Atlas relaxed immediately, grin returning as he tugged Peter's mask off him. 

"You're rude," Peter grunted, making Atlas dig his knee into his side. 

"You too, pretty boy." 

Peter felt his cheeks warm as he stared up at his friend fondly, "you think I'm pretty?" 

Atlas frowned, "of course I do, Peter." 

The younger of the two couldn't wipe the toothy smile from his mouth, cheeks straining as he let out a little bark of a laugh, burying his face in his hands. "You're the first person who's ever said that." 

"I'll always say it," Atlas said seriously, moving away Peter's hands to stare into his eyes. "The prettiest boy I've ever seen." 

"That's gay," Peter whispered breathlessly, noting the way his hands moved of their own accord to cradle Atlas' head and guide him closer. 

"You absolute bisexual mess," Atlas murmured, their noses touching, "I know it is." 

"You remember me being questioning? I never said I was bi," Peter licked his lips self consciously, making Atlas' eyes flick down to them. 

"Pretty sure you like boys, Peter." 

"Me too." 

Then the gap closed and the timidness was tangible on both sides. Atlas was nursing a torn mind and soul and Peter was nursing a torn everything. Their lips melded together perfectly, the teenage drive to push things further, further, further; it was absent from the kiss completely as Peter tangled his fingers in the soft mess that was Atlas' hair. 

When they parted, Peter smiled wider than he ever thought possible. "I didn't think I'd ever crush on anyone but Liz." 

"Don't," Atlas smacked his chest gently, "don't ruin it." 

"Okay," Peter nodded, "Lets go home." 

 

When they arrived back at the compound, it was hand in hand with the goofiest smiles on their faces. They'd shared a few more sloppy kisses, messing about and laughing like the teenage boys they both should've been allowed to be. But then, then, when they walked in. Then, it went to shit. 

Sitting there, talking to Bucky, was Atlas' father. The father that Atlas hadn't ever wanted to see again. He didn't need him and he certainly didn't want him. Atlas still held Peter's hand even in front of the homophobic man, gritting his teeth and moving Peter behind him protectively. 

"What do you want?" he glowered. His father sighed. 

"For you to come home." 

"This is home," Atlas said, "it's where Steve, Bucky, Tony, and Peter are. It's home." 

"Mark and Brad miss you—" 

"Like hell they do!" he growled, letting go of Peter and marching forward, "I am not going back there just so you can black my eye and force me to take care of your drunken ass!" 

Everyone seemed stunned into silence at the outburst. It stunned Atlas because he felt fear immediately afterward. A familiar fear from HYDRA, and from his father. He stepped closer and swallowed it, shoving a finger in his father's chest. "I don't have anyone left with you to protect anymore!" 

He felt a sharp pain shoot through his skull as a memory of first being taken by HYDRA shocked through him. It ripped a scream from his throat as he gripped his head, and the second he felt his father's hand on him, he had the man against the wall. He remembered his handler shoving pictures of Tanner's funeral in his face, not a tear in his father's eyes. In fact, Mark was the only one who looked slightly remorseful. 

Atlas remembered being taken, trying to get to Tanner. 

"They should have killed you, you useless fucking drunk! You coward!" he gripped around his neck, until a metal arm was grabbing him away. He struggled against Bucky's chest, feeling a weak cry trapping itself in his chest. 

"You should leave," Tony said to his father. But then, in a blur, Peter was in the same position that Atlas had been, minus the choking. 

"He abused Atlas, I know it," Peter said, "he needs to rot in fucking prison." 

Everyone seemed shocked for a second. Tony believed Peter though, without question, instructing F.R.I.D.A.Y. to call Stark's personal security. 

Atlas felt his head throb before he went limp in Bucky's grasp. 

\---

When the soldier awoke he felt stiff. He remembered what had happened before he passed out and he assumed that his... Gruff persona had emerged in order to protect himself. The soldier was realizing that, rather than having a split personality, he just retreated. He was still Atlas. He just felt like retreating into his own mind helped. He forgot himself, he got scared, he got... tired. 

He sat up and stared at the wall briefly, collecting his thoughts. They were all scattered to the wind and the soldier prayed briefly that his father wasn't around anymore. In this state, he feared it might trigger a full fledged episode. One that his appointed therapist (thanks Tony) had informed him were to be expected. Although, he didn't want to murder someone because he got triggered by the wrong thing. 

He stood and shuffled through the compound, coming out to the main room and seeing everyone was still there, except his father. His shoulders hunched in relief and he looked to Peter. 

"Beautiful eyes," he addressed, "the soldier is. Sorry. I disobeyed. I expect to be punished, and it is—" 

Peter stood up and crossed the room, tugging the soldier into a hug. "No, Atlas. No more punishment." 

Atlas. Grounding. Atlas isn't a soldier; he's a 17 year old boy. A boy who's gay, and a boy who wants to hold Peter's hand and kiss him again and again. 

"No more punishments," he echoed, his voice holding a bit more life to it, "no more."


	10. TEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Atlas' dad in custody, Tony decides to use his Stark powers to appoint Bucky as his guardian. 
> 
> Within literal hours. 
> 
> With Peter leaving the next day to prep for school the following Monday, Tony suggests the new legally binded duo go bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a super short chapter meant to fill and also progress atlas and bucky's sort of father/son relationship. please tell me what you think about bucky's characterization!!

Atlas pressed close to Peter when he had to leave Sunday morning, burying his head in his neck like a sad kitten. He whined and clenched his fists in Peter's hoodie, breaths stuttering out as he tried so hard not to cry. He was just getting himself back; he was doing so good! He was remembering everything, slowly, and they all figured it was because the extent of his brainwashing, although slightly more intense due to his timid susceptibility, because he'd only been kept for three weeks, unlike the decades they'd had Bucky. 

But, unbeknownst to the whole room, Bucky would do it again if it mean Atlas could be okay. He was the sorta guy who'd do anything for his family. Plus, after hearing the confession that his own son had made via F.R.I.D.A.Y. the previous night to the authorities, he felt as though he owed him that much. His own fucking son. He'd beaten Atlas far more as a child, but as he grew it went more to the emotional side of things, and then Atlas had been taken. 

Tony took the liberty of pulling some strings, and suddenly, the newly pardoned Bucky Barnes was the legal guardian of a teenager. Tony had made it all happen within fucking hours, his reasoning being that both the moody cats needed each other. 

"Don't go," Atlas pleaded, and Bucky watched as Peter's resolve started to drain away little by little. He'd seen if before in Steve's eyes, and even occasionally in Tony's. "Peter..." 

"I don't want to," he whispered, moving back to kiss Atlas in front of them all, although no one gave a shit and they also weren't shocked in the least. "I don't want to leave you." 

"But he has school," Tony stepped in, making Bucky roll his eyes. 

Atlas guiltily recoiled and Bucky's chest clenched as he sent Tony a glare that said "fuckin' really, jackass?" 

"Right," Atlas nodded, "I can't— school's more important than, well, y'know." 

Bucky almost passed out as the most heartwarming look passed over Peter's eyes, "nothing is more important than you." 

Tony gagged as they kissed again, a bit more passionate than they probably should have been in public, but for once Bucky remembered how that felt. He remembered it every time Steve stepped into the room, though he never vocalized it. 

"Okay, okay, shoo!" Tony groaned, pushing Peter out the door to a testy, waiting Happy. Atlas was staring after him with a dazed look. "Now, as for you." 

Atlas blinked, "yeah?" 

"You and your new dad gotta go," he motioned flippantly, "bond." 

Bucky felt his face flush, "I'm not fit to replace a father and I don't intend to." 

Atlas bounded to his side and looked up hopefully, "I wish you would." 

He had a way of giving these little puppy eyes unknowingly, something that Bucky figured he would end up constantly giving in to for one reason or another. He just sighed and gently put a hand on Atlas' shoulder. "Let's go for a run." 

So they made their way outside, choosing the uneven woods for their weird super soldier running. It soon became an unspoken competition and Bucky won easily, holding his hands up triumphantly as his teen glared back. 

"Shut up, old man." 

"Not old," Bucky retorted, "everythin' bout me is smooth like a newborn." 

Atlas scoffed, giving a disbelieving look, "you really are from the 40s." 

"What?" Bucky's face flushed, "sorry, sometimes I forget myself and my old accent just—" 

"It's a good thing, dude," Atlas grinned, "do it more."

"It's not an on-demand movie," Bucky deadpanned. Atlas burst out cackling at that. 

"Modern humor is not your strong point." 

"Yet, you laugh," Bucky sighed, ruffling Atlas' hair as they picked their pace up to a jog. 

"Because it's so dumb, duh." 

"What if I start texting you memes," Bucky shot back. 

Atlas' eyes went wide, "what if you don't do that? Thanks." 

"It'll be the terrible Facebook minion ones." 

"What the hell? Not only do you know what memes are, but you're a fucking meme elitist," he stared pointedly at the other man. Bucky smiled back. 

"I'm the psycho friend," Bucky mocked, putting on a voice that could only resemble a white mom with a minivan, living vicariously through her failing social media and cringey memes. It was so fucking funny that Atlas promptly tripped over a root and just giggled the whole way down. "Oh my god, time to reblog about hiding a body with my BFFL!" 

"Stop!" Atlas cried, rolling to his side breathlessly. Bucky laughed too, dropping flat on his ass and throwing his head back. The two carried on for a minute, before a slow silence crept in on them. It took a moment, before Atlas broke it. "Hey, Bucky?" 

"Huh?" 

"Thank you." 

The elder grinned and sat up, gently resting his cool metal hand on the back of Atlas' flushed neck. The boy relaxed into the touch immediately. "For what?" 

"You're my guardian now. You didn't have to do that." 

"We're family, we're together till the end now."

"But I don't feel stuck," Atlas whispered, still on his side, furrowing his brow, "with dad, Brad, and Mark, I felt suffocated. I was always scared and... Before HYDRA, I'd never even so much as punched someone." 

"You never fought back..." Bucky muttered hoarsely. He remembered suddenly, long nights in a run down Brooklyn home, hiding in the shadows until his father's rage turned to his mother. Remembers being hit and never budging. 

"I didn't fight anyone back," Atlas said quietly, "only HYDRA when I was still high on the mission's adrenaline. And even then, it wasn't long." 

"Your memory gets better every day," Bucky commented absentmindedly, metal fingers moving gently to card through Atlas' hair. The boy leaned into the touch and hummed. It was a paternal gesture that Bucky always wished someone had shown him, "I'm so proud of you." 

Bucky felt guilty. Atlas' pain, his everything, right down to his fucking conception, was Bucky's fault. Because he had given his son the super serum through his lover, and because HYDRA had injected Atlas' mother with the pure intent to create someone who Bucky would trust that was of equal strength. The perfect way to destroy the Winter Soldier if ever need be. 

"I'm proud of you too," Atlas rolled over and Bucky moved his hand to rest on the grass and leaves beneath them. "You're sorta the only adult guy I would let this close to me, in this vulnerable position, y'know. I trust you." 

Bucky felt his throat seize up with fear, "you shouldn't, if I get triggered I could—" 

"I could too," Atlas smiled, "and that's why I don't worry. Chances are, I could get you off me long enough to make you realize where you are or have someone knock you out." 

Bucky felt his shoulders slump a bit. He underestimated the kid sometimes. 

"So... You and Peter?"

Atlas' smile dropped and he groaned, covering his face. It didn't take long for the stupid grin to return though, and he peeked between his fingers and nodded quickly. 

"Peter is a lovely boy," Bucky nodded stiffly, not knowing quite how to approach the situation. 

"Peter is... He's all I think about. If stuff gets too stressful, I think of him and I feel... Grounded. I remember who I am, what I am, what I stand for." 

Then he understood, "Steve is—" 

"Your Peter," Atlas smiled softly, a tenderness present in his tired eyes. Bucky saw so much of himself there, "I know." 

"That obvious?" 

"No," Atlas paused, "well, yes. But we're a lot more similar than I thought we'd be. You act just like me when I'm around Peter." 

"And how's that?" 

"You're best friends," Atlas trailed off, sitting up and looking down at his fingers, "but every teasing word or glance is affectionate. You feel like you're walking on eggshells around him, but you like it, you like being able to be gentle for once. Especially for someone like him." 

"Yes," Bucky answered breathlessly, "that's exactly it." 

Atlas smiled weakly, repeating, "I know."


	11. ELEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlas gets jumpy and misinterprets some things. Luckily for him, some talking with a super-dad makes everything clear. 
> 
> Peter has another sensory overload episode brought on by the stress, and despite everything, Atlas is there to bring him down (and gets bossy with Tony in the process.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this sucks ass and it's SUCH a short chapter but i wanted peter and atlas to have a little scuffle bc obviously atlas confiding in peter about what happened would cause some anxiety on both sides. wouldn't it hurt you a little to hear about your boyfriend getting tortured??

They all went out on the town that night, Peter hanging on Atlas' side the whole night as the teens chattered about anything and everything. That was, until they neared a park. Atlas was excited about getting to fuck about in the playground and Tony was eager to film Bucky for blackmail because he knew the gruff old goat would do anything for the kid. 

Their was a group of teen boys in the park, and as Atlas parted with Peter briefly, they came over. Peter had went to go to the bathroom, and immediately it was like the group was ready to pounce. Of course, Bucky, Tony, and Steve were all watching carefully. 

"You wanna share that number of yours?" one asked smugly, "I'd love to call ya up." 

"I'd love to break your nose," he deadpanned. That was the soldier. "But. We are both aware that is unwise." 

The boy's seemed stunned briefly as Peter came back, protectively winding his arm around Atlas. He tried to look at them as intimidating as possible, but one got closer and grabbed Atlas suddenly. Before anyone could react a scream rippled through the air and the boy had been slung back into a pole. Atlas shouted something unintelligible in Russian as he backed up into Peter, who made the mistake of grabbing him. 

Bucky shouted for him to stand down in Romanian and Atlas immediately complied, freezing and moving to a crouching position. Tony called for medical. 

\--

Atlas was in the throes of a full-fledged night terror (though he wasn't aware of it) twisting and screaming, throwing his head back and forth. Peter was outside the door, tears gathering in his eyes as he looked to Tony desperately for help. 

"He's hurting," he said weakly, "we have to help him, we can't—" 

"A kid could end up paralyzed because of him." 

"He grabbed him!" Peter cried, latching onto Tony's arm. The elder turned to his protege angrily. 

"You never defended violence until now!" 

"Because it's Atlas!" Peter yelled, far louder and more intimidating than either of them expected. Bucky and Steve ran in, seeing the two face off, "Atlas gets a free goddamn pass to hit whatever asshole he wants; do you know what they've done to him? Because I do! He's recounted it in vivid, vivid detail." 

"Being abused doesn't mean you can be the abuser!" 

"I never fucking said that!" Peter cried, "do you know what I've had to listen to? How else do I fucking help him with this? It's all just fucking baggage!" 

Leave it to Atlas to hear the wrong thing at the wrong time. He'd been thrown into reality due to the screams echoing outside his door. And now, when Peter met his gaze, he felt sick, backing up with wide eyes. 

"I didn't mean it," Peter whispered. 

"It's okay!" Atlas smiled weakly, straightening up and not bothering to wipe the tear that slipped down his cheek, "you're right! I... I am baggage..." 

Bucky wondered if Steve would hate him for punching a teenager because, oh, he wanted to make Peter fucking eat his metal fist. 

"No," Peter rapidly shook his head, "I didn't mean it—"

"But you said it, right?" Atlas' smile slowly faded, "it's okay, I mean, my anxiety needed reassurance that— that I..." 

Bucky was fucking murderous. 

"Peter Parker, you have twenty seconds to run," he glowered, and suddenly Tony was between the two. 

"You don't talk to my kid like that, Barnes!" 

"You really wanna fucking go there?" Bucky bellowed, stomping closer. Like a circus act or a musical, Steve leapt between the two and nudged them away. "Steven, I swear to fuck—" 

Atlas bolted at that moment, running as fast as his legs would carry him. A few days with Peter. That's all he'd had before the universe decided it was time to make him miserable again. Which, okay, but why? What could he have possibly done to deserve it this time? 

He couldn't think straight as he stumbled over himself and over tree roots, falling onto his face and hitting his nose. He cried out and his hands flew up to cradle the wound. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he hiccuped pitifully and hastily backed himself up against a tree. He wanted Peter, but fuck, he wanted...

Speak of the devil.

Bucky found the kid, eyes dark with intent to hurt, until he saw the mess that was Atlas sat there. His nose was gushing blood and he was crying so hard he was going to end up suffocating. He immediately grabbed him and wrapped him tightly in his embrace. 

"He was right," Atlas whined.

"He..." Bucky frowned. He knew what Peter meant, it was seeing Atlas hurt because of it that made him upset. And now, he felt even worse, "he didn't mean that you, yourself, are baggage. It's stressful to hear what happened to you." 

"Because I'm—" 

"His boyfriend," Bucky snidely cut in, reminding himself to kick Peter's ass (gently) later, "and it's stressful to hear what people have done to those you care about. Steve had nightmares for a solid week after I let it slip that HYDRA had attempted to neuter me." 

"Weren't you ready to rip his head off back there?" 

"Well, definitely," Bucky sighed, wrapping his metal arm around his kid, "you're... you're my son..." 

Atlas froze at that, turning to face Bucky. The elder took a moment to wipe at the blood pouring from the kid's nose. "Don't bullshit me on this, Buck." 

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said lowly, "what your biological father did, I can't undo that. As far as I'm concerned, you're my kid, not him." 

Atlas shoved himself into Bucky's side, letting him hoist him up as they made their way back toward the compound. It took about ten minutes since they weren't running, which was long enough for Atlas to gather his thoughts. 

And promptly throw them out the window. 

Tony was crouched in front of Peter out on the grandeur front steps, shaking him a bit and trying desperately to figure out how to help. Atlas took off, sprinting the rest of the way to Peter's side, taking his face in his hands. 

"Overload?" he asked, his lover simply nodding his head. "Tony, give me your sunglasses. Go get some earplugs, too. Now!"

Tony nodded quickly and ran off, Atlas turning back and pressing his hands over Peter's ears. He instructed Peter to hold his arms out again, telling Bucky to slip his jacket off. Peter seemed to relax at the cool night air hitting him, as Tony and Steve emerged from the building. Atlas slipped the sunglasses on Peter and shoved in his earplugs, leaving them slightly tilted so that he could hear a bit. 

Peter opened his eyes and breathed a bit slower, staring at Atlas. 

"I overreacted," the soldier muttered, Peter quickly shaking his head. 

"Y'didn't... But I didn't mean it like that, I just meant—" 

Atlas leaned forward and shut the boy up, pressing their lips together quickly as Peter wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's shoulders. "I hurt an innocent kid, Peter. Tony was right, I should be held accountable." 

"I might've been a little... Harsh," Tony sighed, "I can pull some strings, considering that he was sorta grabby and whatnot. Just, work on that shit with Barnes and your therapist. And don't make Peter panic again, got it?" 

Atlas nodded guiltily, causing Peter to huff, "it's not your fault i'm all twitchy." 

Atlas rolled his eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to Peter's temple. "Stay here tonight. We have a lot of catching up to do." 

"Mario 3D World?" Peter quipped, making his boyfriend giggle. 

"Always, pretty boy."


End file.
